Happy Together
by irelandrain74
Summary: Kurt, Blaine, Rachel and Finn share an apartment in NYC and have a great time doing it. Major Klaine/Finchel, lots of Hummelberry/Blainchel/Furt/Blinn friendship, and tons of fluff. What RIB could have done, but messed up. :D A great place for all your feels.
1. Prologue

**A/N: Hi there! Welcome to my mostly fluffy Klaine/Finchel future fic. I more than welcome any suggestions you might have! Thank you so much for reading and you'd make me the happiest girl ever if you'd review and let me know what you think! **

"There is no way we can afford this apartment."

Finn and Rachel said the words simultaneously.

Finn let out a breath. "Thank goodness you agree. I was worried you were going to give me a really sad speech about how we've always beaten the odds."

Rachel paused just long enough to scowl briefly at her boyfriend. "As much as I wish we could live closer to the heart of the city, I realize that with our fledgling careers and meager funds, it simply isn't possible." Rachel looked down at her white flats, then back up, smiling. "We'll just have to work up to this. We'll look at it as a challenge!" She planted her feet and looked up at the building towering above her. Finn couldn't help but smile just a little at how tiny she looked, gazing upward in the street. "Do you hear that apartment? We will be back for you!" she announced with a feisty finger-point. Finn wrapped his arms around her as they walked down the street to the subway.

* * *

><p>"There is no way we can afford this apartment." Kurt rubbed his temples as he said the words, pinching the bridge of his nose.<p>

"I know. I just hoped, that if we really, really cut back and maybe rinsed out Ziploc bags -"

"You aren't making this any easier, you know." Blaine grimaced and looked down, and Kurt instantly regretted his words. "No, I'm sorry. I'm just really upset, too. We're going to have to look for something in another borough and I'll just commute. It's nothing we can't deal with."

Blaine looked up. "I promise you we'll be living here someday. I don't know when, but we'll make it."

Kurt smiled. "You're so adorable when you're being optimistic."

"Only then?"

"Put that cheesy grin away before my lactose intolerance shows up. Come on, let's go apartment hunting." Kurt grabbed Blaine's hand and dragged them down the street.

* * *

><p>Carole Hummel-Hudson got the calls about four hours apart. First was Kurt, moaning inconsolably about the unsanitary living situation in the few semi-affordable Queens apartments he and Blaine had visited.<p>

"We're talking the sort of garbage-strewn staircases that little Asian women lead you up for fake Versace bags in Chinatown, Carole. With hobos sitting on them. I swear I think I saw a homeless woman's boob today."

"No, you didn't," Blaine called from the bedroom.

"Just one of them?" Carole asked.

"And they're still not cheap! I don't want us paying big money to live in the equivalent of the Lima crack district! But I don't know what to do! I'm supposed to start in two weeks and we're still living out of this bedbug-ridden Jersey motel."

"He boiled the sheets, Carole, I'm sure we're fine," Blaine interjected, sticking his head into the tiny motel bathroom where Kurt was perched on the counter, his phone in his hand.

"Do you hear what I'm dealing with?" Kurt shooed his boyfriend out of the room, toeing the door shut behind him.

"If you're really worried, honey, you know you can come home any time."

"And pass up this opportunity to work on Broadway? I don't think so! It's once in a lifetime."

"I know. So you'll find SOMEWHERE to live, and you'll tough it out for a while, just like the rest of us, until you make it big."

Kurt's jaw fell open. "But I thought you said -"

"Yeah, you can come home whenever you want, and your dad and I will welcome you with open arms. But you've got an incredible chance here, and you shouldn't ruin it being picky. Be safe, but don't be a snob."

"Well, okay." Kurt stammered.

"Kurt, honey, I've got to go, your dad's calling, but good luck and keep me updated on the hunt!"

"I will!"

"And remember, no snobbishness!"

"OK, Carole, I - tell Dad I love him. Bye!"

Kurt started when Blaine opened the bathroom door. "Have you ever heard of knock -" He was cut off when Blaine came to stand between his legs and kissed him, pressing him back against the mirror with hands on his shoulders.

"How were your parents?" Blaine asked when Kurt was sufficiently breathless.

"Carole told me not to be a snob."

"What?" Blaine giggled. "Is that even possible?"

"Hey!" Kurt pushed the shorter boy and he bounced back like a helium balloon. "She said we shouldn't be picky about the apartment."

"She's probably right."

"I don't remember you falling in love with any of the many classy neighborhoods we visited today."

"I know." Blaine sighed and heaved himself up next to Kurt on the little remaining counter space, Kurt suddenly thankful for his boyfriend's tininess. "I just wanted our first place together to be perfect, Kurt. For you. And for us. No offense meant here but I'm a musician. I'm used to broken down mattresses and showers that run more cold than hot and, well, homeless people. But I wanted you and I to have someplace beautiful, where you do all the decorating and we frame

Playbills and hang vinyl on the walls and just enjoy each other." Blaine turned his gaze from the ceiling to look Kurt in the eyes. "I'm just sorry we can't make that happen right now."

"Oh, you beautiful boy." Kurt crushed Blaine in a hug so tight Blaine started to see stars. "I will… learn… to deal with a dodgy apartment if you're in it. I love you."

Blaine blinked back at him with a puppy-like smile, his long black lashes briefly obscuring his cinnamon eyes.

"But I think I heard you say something about hanging vinyl on my walls. You damn hipster."

* * *

><p>Finn's call to Carole was a little less whiny. "Hey Mom. Yeah. We're good. Uh, yeah, yeah. The hunting is going okay…"<p>

"It is not going okay, Finn!"

"What, Mom? Oh, sorry, I guess you can hear Rachel too. Uh, we've looked at a couple of places but they're all a little expensive, or rough." Finn got quieter, tilting the phone closer to his mouth. "I mean, I know Rachel will be coming home from rehearsals alone sometimes and I want to be sure she's safe."

"_Safe_? _Safe_, Finn? I am facing the horror of mold and mildew infestations in every one of the apartments we looked at today. Do you know what effect that could have on my voice?" Rachel flounced out of the room, fluttering her hands in frustration.

Finn watched her leave, his mouth hanging slightly open. "Um, yeah, Rachel's not handling it all that well right now, but we're going to figure something out, I'm sure."

"Can I call you right back, sweetie?" Carole suddenly asked.

"Oh, um, sure. OK. Love you." Finn tossed his phone on the bed. The confusion on his face was erased a moment later when Rachel burst back into the room.

"What are we going to _do?_ I've got rehearsals in less than three weeks and your classes are going to start and we're _never_ going to find a place to live!" The tiny brunette was pacing like a rhino.

"Rach –"

"Did you see the last place we tried? I saw _two_ cockroaches in the bathroom, Finn. _Two._"

"Rach."

"And there were SIX locks! Why would any place ever need six locks?"

"Rachel."

"I can't even begin to imagine what will happen if we're not in an apartment by – "

Finn stopped her pacing with an outstretched hand and pulled her against his chest. "Rachel." She went rigid, then relaxed into him, looking up, blinking slowly. "How many times have we been up against something that seemed impossible? And how many times have we pulled it together to overcome whatever obstacles were in our way?" The tiniest hint of a smile lifted the corners of his girlfriend's lips. "We can do anything together, Rachel. And even if we can't have an awesome apartment right now, we'll make it work. We always do. But one day we're going to have that perfect place. I promise."

Rachel leaned up and kissed him. "I'm sorry I was being crazy. I love you, Finn."

"I love you too, Rach." He bent to kiss her again, but his buzzing phone stopped him. "Hey, Mom. Oh, OK. That's awesome." He put a hand over the mouthpiece. "Mom says Kurt and Blaine are looking for an apartment here, too, and Kurt's going to call –" A tinny version of "For Good" sounded and Rachel answered her phone. Finn put his phone back to his ear. "OK, yeah, he just did. Thank you. Tell Burt hi. I love you."

Rachel lowered her phone. "How do you feel about adding a couple of roommates to our apartment search?" she asked, beaming.

"Tell Kurt and Blaine we'll meet them in the morning."

Rachel squealed and bounced away to make her plans.


	2. Chapter 1 Hummelberry Bathroom Blowout

**A/N: Hello everyone! Here's chapter 1! I wanted to get them established in their apartment in this chapter. You should expect fluffy vignettes about their lives together from here. **Someone suggested Kurt/Rachel battling for bathroom dominance, and I hope I delivered at least a little - so I definitely welcome, and attempt to fulfill, suggestions.** Thank you so much for reading, and as always, please let me know what you think and review!**

The apartment was perfect.

Four savings accounts (and one secured income, however paltry, with the prospect of three more) meant that the options had broadened considerably. Although there were a few snags (Kurt ruling out an apartment Rachel loved because the wallpaper clashed was "offensively obnoxious", Rachel refusing to even consider another because the acoustics were terrible) they settled on an apartment in less than a week.

It was a little two-bedroom in a nice part of Brooklyn – no homeless boobs to be seen in the stairwell and only three locks on the door – with a tiny living room and kitchen. It was "cozy" – that's what Kurt kept calling it to justify how small it was, "cozy" – but it met their needs, it was affordable, and all four of them were wildly excited to move in.

Unfortunately the apartment almost imploded from diva overload during their first week living there.

It was the last week they all had free; Kurt had an internship as a costume designer for a new musical, and Rachel was set to start rehearsals for the NYU production of _Company_. Classes started for all four of them the week after that – Kurt, Rachel, and Finn at NYU, Blaine at Manhattan School of Music.

The moving-in process seemed to be going well at first: Finn and Rachel quickly agreed to take the noisier of the two bedrooms, since they both slept like the dead. Everyone participated in the Rachel-mandated apartment-wide check for signs of mold and mildew. Blaine and Finn got the cable and internet turned on. Everything was great, really, until the first morning that Kurt and Rachel needed to leave the apartment at the same time. Rachel had a breakfast date with several of the other cast members, and Kurt was supposed to meet his internship sponsor to go over expectations.

And Rachel had made it into the bathroom first.

"Kurt, I'm sure you understand how vitally important both promptness and a neat appearance are to making a good impression on one's fellow cast members – " she yelled through the door.

"Or more importantly your _boss_. Rachel, _get out_. You can be a minute late. I have to meet Melinda at eight. We're talking about my career here!"

"I'm sorry, Kurt, I _have_ to finish curling my hair –"

"And _I'm_ sorry, Rachel, but I'm going to have to _brand you _with that curling iron if you do not give me access to my pomade."

"Give me just a minute, and I'll be out of here."

"I don't _have _a minute!"

There was a scuffling outside the door. "Rachel, baby, couldn't you open the door?" Finn asked, the sleep still evident in his voice.

"No, Finn, I can't leave with half my hair curly and the other – " _BANG! _Rachel and Kurt both screamed, and there was another, smaller shriek as Rachel dropped the curling iron and nearly burnt herself.

"RACHEL, OPEN THIS DOOR RIGHT NOW!" Rachel struggled with the knob since her hands were still shaking, but she opened the door to reveal Kurt, Finn, and Blaine. Kurt and Finn were looking at Blaine with wide eyes; the curly-haired boy's face was frighteningly calm. "Thank you so much for opening the door, Rachel. See, there's this thing called sharing that I want to introduce you to. Kurt, a little help here? Excuse me, Rachel." Blaine pushed past her and into the small bathroom, dragging Kurt behind him by the hand. "Look at this, Rach! Kurt and I are both in the bathroom and the world isn't ending! Why don't you see if you can try it out?" And then Blaine pushed back out of the bathroom, a snarl on his face, and disappeared back into his bedroom.

Rachel and Finn stood blinking with shock, reduced to silence by Blaine's outburst. Kurt dove for his pomade and began to slick his fingers through his hair in the mirror.

"What just happened?" Finn finally managed. His words jogged Rachel back to life, and she sidled up against Kurt and started curling again.

"I'm sorry you guys had to see that, but I guess it's good you know. Blaine wears his bitchface for the first ten minutes after he's awake and then forgets it ever happened. I think that's how he manages to be so sickeningly _nice_ all the time."

"Dude, you deal with that kind of rage every morning? That isn't normal." Finn leaned against the doorframe, watching as Rachel examined herself in the mirror.

"Usually he just lays in bed for a little before he gets up, but your girlfriend made that impossible this morning."

"Well we're making it work now, aren't we?" Rachel huffed.

"Which we could have been doing for the past five minutes if you wouldn't be so selfish. You wasted valuable time in my moisturizing routine I cannot recover, by the way."

"Well, I didn't realize we could both fit in here." But the truth was that they barely could, and Finn watched in horror as they confirmed that, both leaning down to the faucet simultaneously, the sound of their heads meeting horribly audible. Kurt let out a "hell!" and there were lots of "McQueen!"s and "Barbra!"s coming from the two. Finn couldn't help the snort that came out of him, and he slipped away to the living room when he saw his teary-eyed brother and girlfriend both glaring at him in the mirror.

"New bathroom rules," Kurt announced loudly, rubbing at his temple. "Whoever's going to work gets priority."

"What if we both have to work?" Rachel pouted.

"Then we let the other person know before we make any big movements. Like right now for instance, I'm going to reach across you so I can put this moisturizer away." Rachel did an impressive Matrix-style backbend so that Kurt could stick the little jar back in the medicine cabinet. "See, we can make it work with a little communication."

"Yes, I guess this works. I need my hairspray from under the sink, hang on a second." Rachel ducked to the floor and fumbled around for a minute while Kurt brushed his teeth. She would have cracked her head for a second time on the lip of the countertop if Kurt hadn't noticed and guided her carefully-curled head away. She and Kurt looked at one another for a moment, then she burst out giggling. "Thank you, Kurt. Even if it's a little tight, I'm so glad we're all living together."

Kurt objected uselessly as she hugged him, tilting his jaw so that she didn't knock his toothbrush out of his mouth and hugging her back. "Yeah, me too, Rachel," he mumbled around his mouthful of toothpaste. She released him and fumigated the little space with hairspray as he rinsed.

Rachel stepped out into the hallway when she was finished and spun, the ethereal skirt of her cream-colored dress flaring. "How do I look?"

"Very lovely. I'm glad your tastes have reformed since we left high school. And I'll have you really whipped into shape by the time the year's out." He joined her in the hallway, smoothing his hair one last time.

"Good luck, today," she said, smiling.

"You, too, Rach."

And then they both disappeared to wish their boyfriends good-bye.

* * *

><p>Blaine couldn't figure out why Finn flinched every time he opened his mouth for hours after Kurt and Rachel left. ;)<p> 


	3. Chapter 2 Klaine's Got Something Cooking

**A/N: Hi everyone! Here's chapter two. Thank you guys so much for all the alerts, favorites, and especially reviews - I'm incredibly flattered! As always, thank you for reading. I welcome your suggestions and reviews make me the happiest girl ever. :) Hope you enjoy it!**

Blaine almost immediately ended up making dinner five nights a week, and doing it without any help.

Rachel tried to be sneaky about getting out of helping in the kitchen. At first her avoidance was grounded in reality – she couldn't stand the thought of cooking meat, even if it wasn't for her. But as time went on – and it became obvious Blaine could use the help tossing salads or something - her excuses got more ridiculous. She contracted "colds" (which miraculously didn't affect her voice or breathing in the slightest), spent extra hours in rehearsal, or jogged off in a full yoga outfit, yelling something about an elliptical.

Kurt usually didn't make it home until right at dinner time, but whenever he was around he got himself out of cooking with neck kisses and promises for more later in the evening.

Finn was not allowed in the kitchen when the stove was on.

So Blaine slaved over a meal for four people every week, five nights a week, and they all liked it, dammit.

Blaine had a class schedule that had him home by noon every day, and he put the time to good use, cooking for a vegan, a ravenous omnivore, and his own picky-eating boyfriend. Rachel never had to eat an animal product, and Finn got his meat whenever he wanted it. And because Blaine was an epicurean hipster, no meal was boring. He had one rule as the apartment chef that must be obeyed: you try at least one bite.

In this way his roommates had already discovered an intense love for edamame and sprouts, for rice milk, for potstickers and seaweed. He never told what the night's meal was until everyone had had their compulsory first bite.

Well, sometimes he told Kurt. But only after some of the aforementioned neck kisses and promises.

And tonight was one of those nights.

It wasn't that Kurt was particularly devious. It was just that if Kurt was in the apartment when Blaine was cooking he found it darn hard to resist him. There was just something about seeing his little hobbit of a boyfriend, curls escaping their gel, leaned over the counter sucking sauces off a wooden spoon. It didn't help that Blaine sang while he cooked. Or that he spent a lot of time bending over.

Kurt got home from work a little early to find Blaine pouring juice into a saucer, humming "Sittin by the Dock of the Bay" and wearing the ridiculous red "Kiss the Cook" apron Kurt had gotten him for his birthday.

"Whatcha makin', stud?" he asked, moving in predatory fashion toward his boyfriend.

Blaine held up the hand that wasn't occupied, his face contorted with disgust. "I'm just the live-in chef to you, aren't I? No 'how was your day' or even 'hello', just 'bring me my dinner!'"

"I did call you 'stud,'" Kurt pointed out, sliding his arms around Blaine's waist and pressing a kiss to the back of his neck, nuzzling the knot of the apron strings with his nose.

Blaine relaxed instantly under his touch, the bottle of juice nearly slipping out of his hand. "How did I ever land such a romantic?" He tried to keep his voice sarcastic, rolling his eyes, but they rolled back into his head and stayed there when Kurt moved his lips down to the join of his neck and jaw. The juice bottle bounced against the countertop and Blaine tried to turn around to face his seducer, but Kurt spun him back and tightened his grip. Blaine let out a whine.

"Food first, fun later. What are you making by the way?" Kurt released him and picked up the dropped bottle. "Is this mango juice?"

"Now, Kurt, you know the ru-" Blaine's lips went slack as Kurt kissed his jaw again. "Shark, we're having shark."

Kurt wrinkled his nose. "That sounds terrible. And why is there mango juice involved? Do we have any of that white pizza left over from yesterday?" He stuck his head in the fridge, searching.

"You will try at least one bite of everything. No," he said as Kurt approached again, pouting dangerously. "No! I'm serious, Kurt. I slave in this kitchen day in and day out and you love everything I make if you just TRY it!"

Kurt sighed. "OK! But if it's gross you're making me a grilled cheese."

"Deal."

Kurt climbed onto one of the tall counter chairs and slid forward on his elbows. "So how was your day?"

"Oh, _now_ you ask."

"I'm trying here."

"I spent three hours listening to baroque music and then I got to be tested on it… so spectacular. What about you?"

"I sewed sequins on a muumuu all day. And I mean all day. So great." He watched Blaine pull what he assumed were the shark filets from the freezer. "Alright, Emeril, show me your ways. How are you going to make shark delicious?"

"You're just going to squeal and refuse to touch the fish."

"Yes, probably."

"Come over here." Kurt slid off the chair and skittered over. "It's pan-fried shark with a mango coconut sauce, and it is going to be delicious. Get me a gallon Ziploc and the spice rack?" Blaine didn't look at Kurt as he worked, striding to the fridge for a carton of coconut water and the olive oil.

"This looks terrible. And what are you doing for Rachel, anyway?" Kurt pushed their portable spice rack over to his boyfriend and slapped the Ziploc down after it.

"I asked her earlier how she felt about fish. You know she's always waffling about whether or not to include seafood in the no-no list and yesterday she said she was pretty sure she could eat a fish without hearing its lingering screams."

"I love that girl, but she's crazy."

Blaine grinned. "We all love her. The crazy just makes her fit in here. Now come toss this for me." He tore the white paper off the filets and Kurt's face wrinkled with distaste.

"It seems unnecessary for anything to smell this fishy. And does it have to make that wet - good Lord, stop that! Blaine, I am deadly serious -" Kurt backed away, panicky, as Blaine dangled a shark steak dangerously close to Kurt's poreless face.

Blaine laughed and dropped the fish into the Ziploc bag. "You're so easy!"

"You would know," Kurt sniffed.

Blaine's answering wink was enough to send shivers down Kurt's spine.

"Just give it a couple of good squeezes," he said, handing Kurt the marinade-filled bag of shark.

Kurt smirked. "Oh, I promise I will, but that's later tonight."

Blaine bent him in a kiss until his shoulderblades touched the countertop.

* * *

><p>"This tropical chicken is awesome! Props, dude, props."<p>

"This isn't chicken, Finn!" Rachel admonished. She gave his arm a fond pat and scooped another bite of the orangey dish onto her spoon. Then her jaw dropped and her eyes popped with horror. "Oh my gosh, this ISN'T chicken, is it, Blaine?"

"Of course not."

"No, I'm sorry, I know you wouldn't do that. It's delicious, by the way, what is it?"

"Don't ruin the illusion, baby. Stuff always tastes better before I know what it is."

"Then cover your ears!" Rachel leaned across the table to Blaine, looking him straight in the eyes. "Tell me your secrets, Mr. Anderson. What new magic have you worked with tofu this evening?"

"Uhh, it's actually not tofu." Blaine ate a bite of sticky rice, watching as Rachel's eyebrows drew. Kurt snorted and Blaine gave him a kick underneath the table. Kurt retaliated by sliding his foot up Blaine's leg, causing Blaine to cough loudly. Finn looked up from his nearly-empty plate at all the commotion.

Rachel's jaw set. "Now, boys, who's going to tell me what I'm eating?" Her chocolate eyes burned as she stared at Blaine. Kurt smiled - just a tiny bit, a barely perceptible smirk - and Rachel pounced. "You know! Tell me."

Kurt shook his head resolutely. Rachel held up a hand. "Let's not do anything rash, Rach -"

"Tell me."

"You told Blaine you wouldn't hear its screams!" Kurt squealed. "No, please don't."

"What is it, Kurt?"

Blaine kicked Kurt again. "I don't - no! Please!" Kurt jerked into the table, bent double with panicky laughter as Rachel attacked his ticklish side.

"It's easy to make it stop, Kurt. What am I eating?"

"Please... Stop!" Kurt gasped, scrabbling uselessly at Rachel's tiny hands. "No... Stop... I can't... SHARK!"

Rachel didn't stop. "Do not think you can yell nonsense to get out of this, Kurt!"

"He's not!" Blaine squawked. Rachel looked quizzical, still tickling wildly. "It's shark!" Her hands dropped and Kurt fell backwards, breathing hard and giggling softly. "It's shark, fried shark."

There was a mighty sigh from Finn's corner of the table. "I said I didn't want to know," he said, shoving his plate (and the two remaining bites of shark) away. Then he gave a sideways glance at his roommates and, seeing that they were all still looking at each other, reached one long arm out to grab another forkful of sticky rice.

Rachel was silent for a moment, gazing down at her plate. Kurt and Blaine both stared at the pixiesh brunette. There was a metallic scrape as Finn's fork grazed his plate, but no one turned to look at him. Then Rachel looked up, grinning. "I don't feel that I can hear this shark's death agonies."

Kurt let out a scoffing noise and rolled his eyes; Blaine sighed in relief and lightly punched Rachel's arm. "Why in the world would you make me worry? You SAID yesterday that you were good with fish -"

"Yes, Blaine, but I assumed you meant BONY fish, and sharks are not bony fish."

Blaine gave her a look. "I don't even know what that's supposed to mean, Rachel."

"Yeah, Rach, I think you're just being difficult," Finn managed around a poorly disguised mouthful of shark.

Rachel huffed and scooted away from him a little. "The shark is a cartilaginous fish closely related to the manta ray and - oh, never mind. It was incredible as always. Thank you for fixing it." Rachel leaned across the table to kiss him on the cheek and pressed herself up from the table. "And in honor of this delightful dinner, Finn and I will clean up this evening."

"But the Canucks are playing -"

"Finn, you eat three times what the rest of us do and Blaine makes ALL your food. The least you can do is help clean up."

"It's fine!" Kurt interjected, bouncing up from the table and grabbing his plate. "Blaine and I will clean up tonight. Go watch the game with Finn and it'll be your turn tomorrow night."

"Are you sure?" Rachel asked, still holding her empty plate and reaching for Finn's as he scraped every morsel off it.

"Absolutely. Come on, out you go!" Finn didn't have to be told twice, scrambling out of the room. Rachel followed and the TV could soon be heard from the living room.

Blaine started to get up, but Kurt pushed him back into his chair. "Sit. You can provide moral support."

Blaine leaned back in the chair with a sigh. "You're too good to me."

"I know." Kurt busied himself with loading the dishwasher, giving Blaine a fantastic view of his ass. "Since I can't have you sing for your supper, will you sing for your kitchen clean-up?"

Blaine laughed. "Of course. Any requests?"

"Surprise me," Kurt responded without looking up from the dishes.

When he heard Blaine singing "Try a Little Tenderness" in a quiet falsetto, though, he had to turn around. It didn't matter how long they were together - Kurt would never get bored of his boyfriend's falsetto face. It was one of his favorite expressions in the world, probably owing strongly to the fact that it closely resembled another, slightly more intimate face of Blaine's. He watched him sing, holding a single bowl absently under the faucet, until Blaine stopped.

"I should probably stop if I'm going to distract you like this." The accompanying chuckle that came from deep in Blaine's chest did nothing to calm Kurt down.

"No, no, you're fine!" Kurt's voice squeaked on the last word and he hastened to stuff utensils into the dishwasher.

"So you're saying my singing doesn't affect you at all?" Blaine asked.

The view was making him feel mischievous, among other things, and his eyes sparkled.

Kurt had always liked a challenge. "Nope, not at all."

"Oh, OK then." Blaine was silent for a few moments and Kurt worried that he was just going to stop. In the pause he thought about what Blaine might bust out - "What Kind of Fool"? "Animal"? "Don't Look Back in Anger"? And then Blaine's perfect, rich, textured, powerful voice was filling the little kitchen.

And filling it in the Neopolitan dialect, dammit.

Kurt barely let him get through the first chorus of "Tu Vuoi Fa L'Americano" before he was straddling his lap and pulling desperately at the buttons of his shirt.

"Why do you do this to me?" he managed to get out between kisses.

Blaine rocked his hips up into Kurt's. They both moaned. "Why do _you _do this to _me_?"

There was a small gasp and both boys stopped short, breathing hard.

"I'm sorry, we just wanted popcorn -" Finn muttered, red in the face and turning back toward the living room.

"You know I love you both and I'm very happy you're in love and because of my two gay dads I'm very used to watching a homosexual couple be intimate with one another, but could you maybe keep this out of our kitchen?" Rachel asked, appearing from behind Finn.

Emboldened by Rachel's statement, Finn added "yeah, guys, we eat in here."

"I mean, Finn and I have a very robust love life and yet you don't happen upon us in every inch of public living space in this apartment." Finn turned redder if that was possible. "I guess we'll come back for popcorn when the space is available." Rachel linked her arm through Finn's and they started off.

"Rachel!" Kurt called. She turned. "He started singing in Italian."

"Do what you must," she answered, wrapping an arm around Finn's as they left the couple to their own devices.


	4. Chapter 3 The Blinn Serenade

**A/N: Hi everyone! Thanks again for all the alerts, favorites, and reviews on the last chapter - you guys literally make my life! Last chapter was kind of Klaine-centric, and this chapter will focus on Finchel a bit more. As always, thank you so so so much for reading and please let me know what you think and review!**

They had been in the apartment for about a month on the afternoon that Finn _whumped_ down on the couch beside Blaine and let out a hurricane-level sigh.

"Is everything OK, Finn?" Blaine asked even though the answer was pretty clear, turning to face the taller boy with concern. They had the apartment to themselves at the moment; Kurt and Rachel were at work and rehearsal, respectively.

Finn crossed his arms and sunk deeper into the couch. "Rachel would kill me for saying anything." Blaine's triangular eyebrows rose, but he didn't speak, waiting. "Dude, you gotta promise me you won't say anything. Not to Kurt and definitely not to Rachel."

Blaine hesitated for just a second, then nodded. "Of course I won't. Unless you... got into drugs. Or killed someone. Or cheated." He gave Finn a searching look.

"Those were a lot of exclusions," Finn muttered, his forehead wrinkling with a scowl. "But no, it's nothing like that."

"Then I won't breathe a word. What's the problem?"

"It's Rachel."

"Rachel?" Blaine cringed, suddenly praying with every fiber of his being that a break-up wasn't going to rock their relatively happy life together so soon. "What about her, Finn? You guys aren't having issues, are you?"

"Not really. She's - I don't know how to say this -"

"Oh my goodness, she's pregnant!" Blaine exclaimed, half of him terrified and the other half already writing lullabies for the little one. "Is it a boy or girl?"

"No, Blaine, Rachel isn't_ pregnant_," Finn huffed. "I don't know how she could be," he continued, so quietly that Blaine almost didn't catch it.

"_Oh_. So Rachel isn't giving you any quality time!" Blaine laughed obnoxiously and Finn glared at him. "I'm so sorry, I'm just so relieved it isn't something serious," he explained, still giggling.

"I'm so glad you don't find it serious," Finn grumbled. "I don't know why I thought talking to you would help anyway." He dug his hands into the couch cushions and pressed himself up to leave, but Blaine pulled him back down.

"No, wait, I'm sorry. I can't even imagine what would happen if Kurt closed up shop - I wouldn't be held responsible for my actions. How long has it been?"

"I don't know. Three, four weeks, maybe?"

Blaine nearly spit out the coffee he was sipping. "Four weeks? How have you managed to be so calm?"

Finn shrugged. "I dunno, it's not so bad. She's a great cuddler and we do that a lot. It's just - I'm starting to worry she's not _into_ me anymore."

"Oh, I'm sure that's not true. She's _crazy_ about you. Has she said anything about it or...?"

Finn gave a sideways glance and took a huge breath before answering. "She said she couldn't be too sore to dance at rehearsals."

Blaine was ashamed of the snort that escaped him. "I'm sorry but what in the world are you doing if that's her concern? I mean, unless you're REALLY packing -" Blaine glanced at Finn's lap and then resolutely looked straight ahead, his cheeks coloring.

Finn rushed to cross his legs. "Can we NOT talk about that? Geez." Then he uncrossed them again, muttering something about "even more gay."

"Well I think it's obvious what needs to be done here," Blaine announced with resolve, straightening his lapels as he stood. "We're just going to make you so sexy, Rachel won't be able to resist!" Finn gawked up at him. "Rachel loves music, and she loves you, right?" Finn nodded dumbly. "Then I know _exactly_ how to seduce her. I do it for Kurt all the time," Blaine finished with an assured wave of his hand.

"I don't really wanna know that."

"Come on, I'm a master at this. Welcome to the Blaine Anderson School of Seduction, Finny."

"Please don't call me that."

* * *

><p>Rachel slipped into the apartment just past 11 and was greeted by her favorite scent – vanilla. It was dark except for the trail of candles leading from the door to her bedroom. The path between them was littered with gold star confetti that sparkled with the reflection of the candles. She gasped a little at the beautiful sight, then carefully kicked off her shoes, narrowly avoiding a flickering jar, and draped her bag over a kitchen chair with her jacket.<p>

When she had almost reached the bedroom, long arms wrapped around her from behind and lips touched her neck. Rachel jerked for half a second before she recognized the embrace. "Finn?" she whispered, and heard him sigh happily against her ear. "What's going on?"

He pressed tiny kisses up her jaw and ear before answering, and she shivered. "Do you have any idea how much I love you?"

"I – I think so," she giggled.

Finn sighed again, and Rachel shivered a second time as she felt his throat vibrate against her hair. "You are so beautiful. Come on." Rachel couldn't help smiling – even after all this time together, she was still a little insecure about her looks, and it meant the world to know Finn found her beautiful. Finn shifted so that he could tuck her under one arm and guided her into their bedroom.

It was also darkened except for more candles. Rachel smiled when she noticed they were all vanilla-scented. The bed was covered with a red satin blanket and more gold star confetti, and jazz was playing softly in the background.

"What do you think?" Finn asked with obvious pride, squeezing her against him.

"Oh, it's lovely, Finn." She sat down on the edge of the bed, causing a small meteor shower of confetti to slide to the floor, and looked around. "But what's it all for?"

"Sometimes I don't think you realize how special you are to me." Finn knelt in front of her and grabbed her hands, kissing them both tenderly. "I wanted to show you that you are the best thing in my life." Rachel was melting, her body literally going slack as he placed a chaste kiss on her lips. "And I have something I want to show you."

"OK," she whimpered reluctantly as he pulled away. Rachel watched as Finn walked over to their iHome and fiddled with it, half of her consumed with the fuzzy warmth of her love for the boy and the other half distracted by the delightful way his deep shoulder blades carved his shirt.

"Um, close your eyes." Rachel complied with Finn's request, tensing with anticipation. She heard a little more scuffling and the click of the iHome's buttons, breathing in the heady vanilla air. Her eyes flew open when she heard the first notes. "_You ain't got no kind of feeling inside…siiide…"_ Finn's eyes were closed as he sang, his fingers fumbling to unbutton his shirt. Rachel only barely bit back a giggle. "_I got something that will sure 'nuff set your stuff on fire… ohhhh."_ He rubbed one of his giant hands up his wide chest, his face scrunched. _"You refuse to put anything before your pride…"_ Finn ripped his black dress shirt off, revealing a snug white undershirt, and flung it to the floor before grabbing the chair that stood by their dresser and slamming it down in front of Rachel. _"What I got will knock all your pride aside!"_ At these words, Finn leaped on top of the wicker chair and started to… gyrate his hips?

"Finn, baby, what are you - ?"

"_Tell me something good!" _Off went the undershirt, nearly hitting Rachel in the face. _"Tell me that you love me, yeah!"_ Finn unbuttoned his jeans, still gyrating poorly. _"Tell me something good!" _The jeans slid to his knees._ "Tell me that you like it, yeah!"_ And then he tried to step out of the jeans, which would have been fine if he hadn't been dancing on the chair.

Rachel only squealed a little when Finn fell on top of her – he missed most of her vital soft parts – and when he instantly tried to push himself up, panicking about crushing her, she pulled him back down and wrapped her arms around his body, squeezing him tighter against her. The karaoke track played on in the background. "I'm telling you that I love you," she half-whispered. Finn arched as Rachel's tongue slid along the valley of his shoulder and collarbone. She sucked at his windpipe – he hissed loudly - and then licked along the other shoulder. "And that I _like it_."

Finn had her clothes off so quickly she didn't have time to complain and so expertly, she couldn't have complained if she'd tried.

* * *

><p>Later – neither of them would have tried to guess how much later – when Rachel was sprawled across Finn's chest, head to his steady heart and dark hair splayed everywhere, she gave a tiny giggle.<p>

"What?" Finn found the energy to ask, stroking her back with one hand.

"This was… more than wonderful," she answered. "I mean… wow, baby."

"You're telling me." He stared up at the ceiling, a smile curving his lips.

"But… I _know_ you, Finn, and this wasn't your idea."

"What do you mean?"

Rachel sat up a little – Finn groaned at the loss – and gestured around the room. "Come on, Finn, candles and gold stars? You're wildly romantic, but you're also a lot smarter than people realize. You knew we would knock one of those candles over." (The fallen candle hadn't even smoked against the carpet and, after a noisy, frequently interrupted [kisses against the doorframe, kisses atop the counter] trip to the kitchen for water the threat had been permanently extinguished.) "And you had to realize that confetti doesn't exactly make for comfortable bedding." (When the initial, desperate edge was gone, they had both been forced to stand and brush gold stars from the other's back and blow the remainder off the bed.) "And as… _interesting_… as it might have been, I can't imagine you planning to give me a stripping serenade. I mean, you jumped on the furniture. That's really not your style." She laid back down, grabbing his arm with one hand. "Plus I think you almost broke that chair."

Finn sighed.

Rachel waited, but was greeted only by silence. She sat up again. "Finn? Did Puck help you plan this?"

"No," he muttered.

"Was it Mike? Because Tina always said – "

"No, Rach, it wasn't Mike."

"Well who was it, then?"

"Blaine." Finn said it softly, hoping she wouldn't hear.

"_Blaine?"_ Well, so much for that. "Of course," Rachel laughed. "The furniture jumping should have given it away immediately!" There was a small silence and Finn thought, for one misguided second, that she might drop the issue. "Wait. Why is Blaine giving you bedroom advice?"

"Uh, do we have to talk about that right now? Can't we just relax in post-coil bliss?"

"Post-coital, Finn. And no. We have to be completely open and honest with each other for this relationship to work. Out with it."

Finn gave another mighty sigh – Rachel rose up and down with it. "I thought maybe you weren't attracted to me anymore."

"What?" Rachel stifled her laugh of incredulity, knowing it wouldn't help anything. "You can't be serious."

"Well, you haven't exactly been excited to do… what we did tonight."

"And you thought, because of that, that I didn't find you attractive."

"Well, yeah."

"Did I clear that up for you tonight?"

Finn chuckled. "Yeah." Rachel flopped back down onto his chest, and he went back to rubbing her back. "But, so, if you are still attracted to me, why haven't you wanted to… you know… with me?"

Rachel loved his boyish avoidance of the words. "Well, as you're well aware, I can be a bit… loud."

"Yeah you can," Finn said appreciatively.

"And we now have two roommates."

"Yeah."

"Who I would rather not disturb at all hours…."

"Oh."

"Yes, Finn, oh."

They were both quiet a moment, the stillness disturbed only by Finn's breath and the gentle movement of his hand against her back.

"What about tonight?" he asked at last.

"I guess it's just lucky Blaine had a little forewarning," Rachel answered, snuggling down against Finn's neck and pulling the covers over them.

* * *

><p>"So I hate to break this to you, man, but Rachel doesn't really care for your seduction methods," Finn announced when he got home from his classes the next day to find Blaine alone, cutting carrots. (And no, Finn didn't get at all distracted thinking what else had happened on that counter the night before… or how hypocritical it had been of Rachel to yell at Kurt and Blaine the other evening…)<p>

"I find it difficult to believe that you failed to seduce Rachel, Finn." Blaine cocked an eyebrow at the taller boy, still slicing.

"What? Why? She found it all a little cheesy. The candles… the chair dancing. It's cool for you, I guess – you're kind of a leprechaun – but I almost broke my leg. And she liked the confetti, but that stuff is rough on bare skin."

"That's kind of what we've always liked about it," Blaine said with a shrug.

"And there you go with the telling me too much again."

"Well, I know _something_ worked for you last night."

"Well, yeah, it was an _awesome_ – wait. How do you know? …is it because I'm acting too happy today? Too obvious?"

"We kind of _heard," _Blaine answered with an apologetic smile. "And can I just say one thing?" Finn blinked and nodded. "Is she hitting a high C? Because, excuse my French, damn. It was one of the hottest things I've ever heard. You guys need to do that a _lot _more often. I'm hoping I can talk Kurt into hitting that note from now on!"

"Yeah, I'm just going to pretend I didn't hear that," Finn muttered as he headed back out of the apartment.

"He's got a really incredible range, you know! Just like your girlfriend's!" Blaine yelled after him.

"He is my BROTHER! And stop listening to what my girlfriend sounds like in bed!" Finn hollered back.

* * *

><p>That evening, Rachel came home to find a gold-star patterned gag laying on the bed.<p>

* * *

><p><strong>(P.S.: I'm not 100% sure how betas work since I'm fairly new to the site, but I could definitely use somebody giving me a pre-posting critique. If anyone's interested, please shoot me a message!)<strong>


	5. Chapter 4 A Course in RachelWrangling

**A/N: Hi everyone. Thank you all so so so much for the alerts, favorites, and - most of all! - incredibly kind reviews! If you tell me what you like, I'll try to give you more of it! Someone requested this in a roundabout way, so I hope it works for you, anon! :) I'm always looking for new suggestions. As always, thank you so much for reading - and please review to let me know what you think!**

One week Rachel went over the edge.

In less than three days, she burned a path through the little apartment. Kurt's innocent question about how rehearsals were going had caused a forty-five minute dissertation on how _incredibly underappreciated_ she was as a performer, and wasn't it ridiculous that the professors had cast her as Jenny just because she was _too wholesome_ for the other roles and really what _the hell_ was wrong with Sondheim in the first place, writing this stupid musical around a _man _when she could sing "Being Alive" better than any twelve men_?_ The anti-_Company_ tirade had ended in Rachel tearing a tiny corner out of her half-inch thick script and immediately bursting into hysterical tears as she tried to kluge the thing back together. When Kurt handed her a roll of Scotch tape, she grabbed him around the neck and blubbered tears and mascara all over his silk button-up.

Blaine mentioned with concern that she looked a little tired during dinner; by the time all was said and done, she had called him a "nosy little ball of hair gel" and dumped her entire bowl of jalapeno soup down the sink before shutting herself in the bedroom. Then she turned up half an hour later, red-eyed from weeping and telling him he was the best cook, no, best _person_ ever and his hair was very dapper and asking him could he ever forgive her and maybe fix her a peanut butter and jelly?

And while Finn had spent all his time since Rachel's crazy spree started trying not to breathe wrong, Kurt and Blaine could still hear yells of "_big, dopey hands!" _and "_stupid smile!"_ and "_too much damn blinking!"_ from behind the other couple's bedroom door every night.

So when Rachel left the apartment on the third evening of the misery for rehearsals, leaving a slightly trembling Finn in her wake, Kurt and Blaine descended on the poor giant with desperation.

"She drew an unflattering picture of her musical theory teacher on the back of one of the comp pieces I had to turn in and _I_ ended up apologizing." Blaine shook his head. "I'm still not sure how that happened…"

"Is this normal, Finn? We've got to make it stop, because I can't be held responsible for what I will do if she blows her nose on another piece of my wardrobe."

Finn's eyelid twitched a little. "She just kind of… gets like this."

"Is it a food allergy or something?"

"Stress, maybe?"

"Because I'll change the menu if that's the case – "

"I'll have her butt in a yoga class so fast – "

"Uh, no, guys, it's kind of a…ugh." Finn sighed, shifted, and rolled his eyes. "Kind of a monthly thing."

"OH, GROSS," the boys groaned in unison.

"I am so glad you are a man, baby," Blaine said with a fond pat to Kurt's thigh.

"That makes two of us," Kurt sniffed. "But… what do we do to fix it?"

Finn leaned back into the couch cushions. "Try not to piss her off?" He shrugged, defeat etched all over his face.

"Your strategy is 'don't piss off the hormonal woman'?" Kurt asked with raised eyebrows.

"I've never dated a woman and I still know that's pretty much an impossibility," Blaine said with authority.

"Well what would you guys suggest?"

Blaine smiled. "I'd say we ply her with gifts. Painkillers, comfortable clothes, a heating pad. And chocolate. A ton of chocolate. I'll make her some new chocolate dish for every meal."

Finn was considering it when Kurt made a scoffing noise. "I've got an easier idea that means none of us have to get within mauling distance of the tiger."

"Yeah? What's that?"

"I say we get her plastered."

* * *

><p>"Karaoke night?" Rachel's eyes narrowed and all three boys had a collective intake of breath. "Well, this is certainly unexpected, but that sounds kind of fun. Not to mention it will finally give me an opportunity to display my talents, since I'm being so tragically underused at school."<p>

And so they had whisked her off to the Shining Star for a night of musical debauchery.

The hole-in-the-wall karaoke bar didn't I.D. anyone who paid the proper fee to get in, so the four of them were ushered in without fanfare. They slipped into a booth near the stage and ordered (Coronas for Finn and Blaine, cosmopolitan for Kurt, appletini for Rachel) while they picked through the song book. There was a brief mini-meltdown when Rachel launched into a rant on the poor selection of songs available to adequately showcase her considerable vocal talents, but she was shut down before any physical damage was done by Finn shoving her drink in her face.

Rachel decided on "My Heart Will Go On" with her mouth still attached to the side of her glass, and the boys tried to get someone to come pick up the book. "Wait, what are you guys singing?" she suddenly demanded. Rather than risk her wrath, Kurt chose for all three of them and then waved the little book over his head.

In the meantime, a blonde in a leopard-print mini-dress wobbled up to the stage on patent leather platforms and started wailing out "Can't Fight the Moonlight."

"Is she serious?" Rachel asked, loudly enough that the people in the adjacent booths turned to look at her. "I know this song has like twelve notes total and is in a movie about strippers but that doesn't mean just anyone can sing it!"

"Rachel, honey –" Kurt started, but was cut short by her terrifying glare.

"That shit is basilisk level," Blaine whispered against Kurt's neck, taking a bottle-draining swig out of his beer.

"I just find it incredibly tragic when talentless people are allowed to embarrass themselves like this," Rachel stated.

Finn flagged down a waitress. "Could you just… keep 'em comin'? And maybe bring us some tequila. Yeah, tequila." He turned back to the table. "I'm pretty sure we're going to need it."

* * *

><p>"FLAT! YOU'RE SO FLAAAAAAT! BOOOOO!"<p>

"_Rachel."_ They were less than an hour in and Finn had spent so much time trying to wrangle his tipsy, PMSing girlfriend that he'd barely finished his first beer. Kurt watched with horror (although he was drunk enough now that he was starting to chime in with his agreement) and Blaine had started to blow bubbles into his fifth beer with the straw he had requested.

"I'M JUST BEING HONEST, FINNYKINS! AND HONESTY, SIR, IS THE BEST – aaayyy!" She was silenced as Finn managed to get a hand over her lips.

"We've got to get her out of here," Kurt said.

Finn stood, trying to pull Rachel with him, but his hand slipped off her mouth in the process and she started belting along over top of the current singer, who was wrapping up her song. In the moment of struggle, he decided it was more important to have her silent than removed, so he sat back down and clapped his hand back into place.

They gave up any prayer of leaving the bar in the next minute, when the announcer read Rachel's name. Hell itself couldn't have stopped her from taking that stage.

Her mood improved – very briefly – when she was allowed to get up and sing. The crowd was relatively hostile before she even started – "bitch, you ain't Celine!" and "_you're_ FLAT – in the chest!" and the always creative "get off the stage, whore!" But even drunk, Rachel was a pretty good performer – her voice never really failed – and they quieted down until she managed to work in a full verse of her own lyrics about subpar karaoke bar performers, then burst out sobbing during the last chorus and adlibbing dramatic lines to the effect of "I'll never forget you, Jack!" and "No! Don't let go!"

Finn, blushing wildly, had to carry her off the stage when she laid down on it and refused to move unless she got the kind of applause and fanfare she deserved. "Come on, baby, we're going to go home now," he muttered, scooping her into his arms and turning to mouth desperate "I'm sorry"s to the dozens of angry customers and employees glaring daggers at him.

"I need to pee," Rachel whimpered. "Finn… Finn." She poked him in the side repeatedly. "I need to pee."

Finn gave an impressive sigh and hauled her to the women's bathroom before letting her down, being careful to avoid hitting anyone and pissing them off more than they already were. "Get in, and get out," he said sternly, pushing her gently through the door.

He had endured several dirty looks from a number of drunk women when one of the bar employees – a little guy in a polo with a headset – tapped him on the shoulder. "Are you Finn?"

"Uh, yeah. What's wrong?"

"Your brother – Kirk, I think it was – is up on stage right now and causing a little commotion. And since this is the second member of your party tonight who has refused to get off the stage, I need you to come and take care of it, and then I need you all to get out."

"But my girlfriend –"

"Now," Mr. Polo barked, and Finn followed.

Kurt was on stage and screaming about not being denied the right to sing women's songs by these closed-minded bigots (he had put himself down to sing the Maroon 5 song earlier but, three cosmos later, was convinced he had signed up for a Britney Spears tune and that the man was keeping him down.) Finn had to physically remove a drunken diva from the stage for the second time that evening.

When he had finally wrestled Kurt back to the booth, he was almost relieved to find Blaine laying on Rachel's shoulder and making kissy faces at her while she repeatedly touched his nose (complete with _boop_! sound effects). "Up, now, both of you," Finn ordered, still holding Kurt up by the back of his shirt. Rachel obeyed in a fit of giggles, but Blaine slumped further down into the booth. Finn grabbed his shirt collar and pulled him upright ("now, Anderson!"), ignoring his pout, then yanked him out of the seat.

He leaned Kurt and Blaine up against the booth (Blaine finally got to put his puckered lips to work), scrambled for his wallet, and threw multiple bills on the table. Then he lined the three weaving drunkards up behind him, joining their hands and threatening them with what would happen if they let go, and headed out of the Shining Star like a mother goose and his unsteady goslings.

* * *

><p>Kurt and Blaine stumbled into the kitchen the next morning to find Finn making a pot of coffee and setting out three doses of aspirin.<p>

"Good morning, sunshines," Finn said, sarcasm dripping from his voice.

"Dammit, Finn, don't yell," Kurt hissed.

"I'm _not_ yelling, but if I was, it'd be totally justified. Not only did you come up with this half-assed 'get Rachel drunk' plan, you idiots got so hammered last night I was pretty sure one of you would end up with alcohol poisoning."

"Did it work?" Blaine mumbled, squinting.

"Did what work?"

"Was she nicer drunk?"

"Was she…? Oh, my gosh, you don't remember _anything_." Finn laughed bitterly. "Between your boyfriend and Rachel, we got thrown out of the Shining Star!"

Kurt climbed onto one of the counter chairs and put his head on the table. "If we really were that drunk, it was probably so we could deal with your girlfriend. And why aren't you hungover?"

"Because – and goodness knows I needed it the most - I didn't even get to drink! I was too busy taking care of you babies! I had to get us a cab!"

"That bar is only three blocks away," Blaine pointed out.

"_Exactly. That drunk._ Never again." Finn shook his head and went back to fixing the coffee.

"Well, where's Rachel?" Blaine asked.

Finn set a mug each in front of Blaine and Kurt – one with amaretto cream, one with two sugars. "Still asleep. Since the three of you spent the night vomiting on every square inch of the bathroom I guess she's pretty tired."

"OK, that's disgusting," Kurt said, looking up to take a sip of coffee. "The three of us can't even fit in that bathroom at the same time."

"Oh, you found a way. I really wasn't exaggerating when I said every square inch." Finn nudged the aspirin toward the two boys. "Eat up, now."

"Aww, Kurt, he totally loves us. He cleaned up our vomit."

"Only you would find that sweet. But… thanks, I guess, Finn."

"That's right, thanks. I had to make sure you idiots didn't die on me. But if you guys _ever_ – EVER – get that drunk again, you are on your own."

"He doesn't mean it," Blaine giggled, obediently swallowing his painkillers. Finn didn't correct him.

There was a brief silence as all three boys sipped on their coffee.

"So… I guess Kurt's strategy for dealing with hormonal Rachel didn't work so well." Blaine murmured.

Finn sighed. "No, but the worst of it should be over now. We'll just have regroup and come up with a new plan next go round."

* * *

><p>The following month, they instigated Blaine's kill-her-with-kindness plan and found chocolate to be such an effective Rachel-tranquilizer that from then on, PMS was mentioned only when they ran low on Hershey's bars.<p> 


	6. Chapter 5 The Double Date, Part 1

**A/N: So has everyone given me up for dead? I'm writing this fic as fast as I can, but I'm working two jobs right now so I have very little time. Please bear with me! Thanks so much for all your kind reviews as well as the alerts and favorites! As always, thank you for reading, enjoy - and if you leave me a review, I'll love you forever. **

Finn shocked everyone when he wandered into the living room one evening and announced – with one of those dreamy, skyward smiles – that they should go on a double date in the city. Blaine, Kurt, and Rachel were draped limply across one another in the dark living room, spilling popcorn and mouthing along with _Chicago_, and when Finn made his suggestion Blaine choked a little on a kernel and was forcibly (and unnecessarily) Heimlich'd by Kurt before discussion could continue.

Five minutes later, when Blaine was coughing and rubbing his ribs and glaring at Kurt, Finn finally got the room's attention again. "You…want to go on a double date," Rachel repeated sleepily, as if trying to make sure she was hearing him right.

Finn nodded. "Well, yeah. I mean, you guys were all excited to finally move here and now that we live here we only ever really see the city when we're going to class or work - "

Kurt raised an eyebrow at Finn. "I'm sorry, I'm having trouble believing that this is coming from you. What would we do on this double date, exactly?"

"Well, I don't know, I hadn't really thought about that –"

"That's shocking – "

"We can plan it together!" Blaine suddenly cooed. Kurt turned to face his boyfriend. The shorter boy was wearing his infamous heart eyes, his mouth slightly open, and he turned the lovey gaze on Kurt. "What? This city is _so romantic_," Blaine explained, gesturing to make his point and accidentally upending more of the popcorn onto Rachel's pajamas.

Kurt patted Blaine's curly head fondly. "Oh, you're such a doll. If you two plan the date it will be a disaster."

Rachel made a bizarre whining noise – she had been about half asleep before Finn's interruption, and was still drooling a little against the couch's arm rest, her toe-socked-feet in Blaine's lap. "We organize everything, Kurt. Let's let our boys do the work for once." Her words turned into a breathy yawn, and she stretched once, ignoring Kurt's protest when her bony elbow scraped across his chest.

Kurt looked at Finn, then Blaine. They were both grinning and nodding slightly. They looked like such absolute _puppies_ (Blaine was a cocker spaniel, he decided – Finn, a chocolate lab) that his resolve wavered.

"Rachel!" Kurt hissed, leaning down to his reinforcement's ear, but she was out like a light. "Oh, Rachel, come on," he whispered vainly.

"I think she's asleep, dude," Finn offered.

Kurt sighed. "Oh, all right. You two plan the date. But I will not – no, stop that. Listen to me." Finn was walking towards the couch, exchanging conspiratorial looks with Blaine. Kurt snapped his fingers loudly and both boys turned. "I will _not_ be eating anything that comes from one of those foreign street stalls. I won't. Just so we're clear."

"OK!" they said in unison.

Kurt would have sworn they woofed and wagged their tails.

* * *

><p>Finn and Blaine were incredibly secretive for the next few days. Rachel or Kurt would stumble into the living room or kitchen to find the two boys with their heads together – a weirdly disproportionate pair, Blaine's dense curls on level with Finn's massive shoulders – whispering and, when they realized they weren't alone, falling completely silent and glaring the intruder out of the room.<p>

Rachel and Kurt spent a lot of time wondering about the date. "You don't think they're going to take us to the zoo, do you?" Rachel asked, wide-eyed.

"If they do, it's your fault. I tried to avoid this madness."

"I needed my sleep!"

After several evenings of plotting, Blaine and Finn spilled into the kitchen – where Kurt and Rachel were leaned over the counter, eating frozen grapes out of a bowl and trying to finish their homework – and gave the marching orders.

"We're going out Saturday night and we're making all the decisions," Blaine said with finality.

"Yeah, we've got this," Finn echoed, grinning.

"You'll need to be in the apartment and free for the night by five o'clock, and we'll take it from there."

Kurt chewed absently on a grape. "OK. What will the mood of the evening be? I need to plan my wardrobe accordingly."

Blaine's smirk turned evil and his brow quirked up. "I did mention that we would be making _all _of the decisions."

"You wouldn't," Kurt said, his eyes suddenly wide with horror.

"_Oh_, I think I would."

* * *

><p>At 5:00 Saturday night, the preparations began. Finn and Rachel disappeared into their bedroom, and Blaine, smiling like the cat that ate the canary, used one finger to push Kurt lightly into theirs.<p>

"OK, Blaine, I know you and Finn have been bonding over this and everything, and I'm sure you have a _lovely_ evening planned, but you must understand that I am a fashion-forward young man and I have a reputation to uphold, particularly when out in the streets of – oh." Kurt's eyes shut as Blaine kissed him into incoherency, his boyfriend's guitar calluses scraping against his scalp and making him shudder.

"Relax, Kurt," Blaine breathed. And then his voice was suddenly deeper. "Don't you want to look good for me?"

Kurt realized he should be acting offended and saying something about how he always looked good, but the rough edge in Blaine's voice made it impossible. Instead he just nodded. He wasn't sure what to make of this side of Blaine – Kurt was usually the aggressive one – but he was pretty sure he liked it.

"I don't think you'll mind what I've picked out," Blaine said, pointing to the bed, where a nondescript pair of skinny jeans (which would have been inoffensive if not for the acid-wash) were draped across an almost-transparent white v-neck t-shirt. "I mean, I know it's not as fancy as your usual… but there's something _incredibly_ sexy about seeing you down on my level." Blaine's eyes narrowed, darkening. "Alright. Clothes off. Or do I have to do that part myself?"

Kurt didn't have to answer.

Blaine worked slowly at the buttons, starting at the neck, his fingers brushing against Kurt's throat. Each button revealed a few inches of skin, and Blaine kissed them as he went, ducking lower and lower while Kurt made obscene noises. Once he was free of his shirt, Blaine let go of him, and Kurt melted into the bed, literally unable to stand. Blaine bent over him but Kurt threw up a hand, breathing hard. "Stop, stop. I'll get the pants. You can't touch me anymore if we're going to make it out of this apartment tonight."

Blaine whined, but backed off.

When Kurt managed the strength to pick himself up and start pulling on the clothes Blaine had picked out, he had a thought. "Hey Blaine?"

"Yes?" Blaine's voice was still gruff, and he coughed.

"You know I'm wearing this outfit because I love you."

"Yeah, I know," Blaine said dreamily.

"So… if you love me…I think you should wear the Ralph Lauren."

Blaine groaned, but headed for the closet anyway.

* * *

><p>"You look so pretty in blue," Finn said.<p>

Rachel blushed and spun once, the skirt of the dress flaring out behind her. "Thank you, Finn. It's beautiful."

"It's a lot like the one you were wearing for our first date in New York," he said, smiling. "That's why I picked it." Finn watched as Rachel held a few different necklaces up in the mirror, trying to decide on one. "Well, that, and the saleslady kept saying it was 'very in-fashion.'"

Rachel was beaming when she turned around to face Finn, the gold star pendant he had gotten her around her neck. "I love you, Finn."

"I love you, too. Come here." And he pulled her onto his lap – not caring about messing up her carefully arranged hair, or wrinkling the brand new dress – and kissed her, hard, to prove it.

* * *

><p>The four of them were still looking each other up and down, appraising their significant other's choices, as they left the apartment.<p>

"You two look… hot," Rachel giggled as she took in Kurt and Blaine's ensembles. Blaine had been careful to slightly undersize Kurt's outfit, so that his lithe form still stretched the thin fabric of his t-shirt, and Kurt had picked out the dreaded Ralph Lauren outfit – tailored navy pants, snug red polo, white deck shoes – specifically to complement Blaine's frame.

"Hey, I'm right here, and you dressed me," Finn complained, squeezing Rachel to his side.

"_Rachel_ picked that out?" Kurt asked with surprise. The brown sweater picked up Finn's eyes and looked like it might have come from somewhere other than the Gap.

Rachel just grinned smugly, leaning her head into Finn's shoulder.

Blaine gave Kurt a look. "You look beautiful, Rachel, and you did a very nice job of picking something for Finn to wear. Even if he and I were supposed to be making _all_ the decisions." He glared at Kurt, then pulled a hand from behind his back. "Anyway, it's time to put these on!"

"Are those… blindfolds?" Rachel asked disbelievingly. Finn pulled the dark fabric taut around her eyes as she spoke, giving her no time to react, and tied a clumsy knot at the back of her head.

"Don't worry, Rach, I've got you," he said, rubbing her arm gently.

Kurt had a little more warning, and he fought Blaine for a few minutes – there was a lot of harmless slapping involved – but once Blaine started tickling Kurt's sides, the taller boy gave in and allowed himself to be blindfolded.

"This seems abusive," he complained, arms crossed.

"It's part of the fun, silly. Now come on. We've got a city to experience!"

Kurt and Rachel were vaguely aware that they got in a cab. Finn or Blaine must have written the destination on a piece of paper, as they never spoke to the cab driver. The blindfolded members of the party spent most of the cab ride speculating about where they were going, trying to guess based on the length of the ride and wheedling their boyfriends for hints, but Finn and Blaine remained resolute. When they finally got out of the taxi, they could hear street music amidst the usual sound of NYC traffic.

"Something smells like wet dog," Kurt sniffed.

"Stop being so negative," Blaine growled. The guides walked their prisoners down the street a short distance (offering lots of "excuse us" and "sorry" and "oops!" to the other pedestrians) before coming to a stop.

"Looks like quite a situation you got there," came an unfamiliar voice.

"Oh, we're surprising them," Finn explained, as he started working at Rachel's blindfold, careful to avoid pulling her hair. Blaine did the same for Kurt, and a moment later, all four of them were staring at the first surprise of the night.

They were on the outside edge of Central Park, standing in front of a horse-drawn carriage.

Rachel couldn't even speak for a few moments, her mouth open and her face a mask of horror.

"Uhh, Rachel –"

"How could you do this? Do you two seriously not listen to a word I say? These carriages are inhumane! I hate the sight of them! I can't believe you would be so insensitive! Look at this poor horse! Can't you see it is _suffering?_"

In fact, no one else could see that the horse was suffering (more like bored) but they were smart enough to stay quiet about it. "Rachel – "

"I've been lobbying with the council to have part of the proceeds from our _Company_ performances donated to get these stupid, awful contraptions off the streets!" The man running the carriage was turning redder and redder as Rachel got louder and passerby started to stare.

"Rachel."

"I have no idea why I even agreed to go on this date, if this is all the more concern you two have for my ideologies -"

"RACHEL!" The brunette fell silent, huffing. "It _was_ a joke. We just wanted to make sure you two realized how bad it could have been, so you can appreciate what we're actually doing tonight," Blaine explained.

Finn shrugged apologetically at the carriage operator and pulled the blindfold over Rachel's eyes again, ignoring her shrieks and smirking shyly at the stares. Kurt didn't even put up a fight as Blaine did the same to him, too shocked to protest. "You two are idiots," he said. "Idiots. This had better be the best damn date I've ever been on. No, it had better be the best damn date I've ever heard about. It better be movie quality."

"It will be!" Finn and Blaine answered brightly, in unison, and then they were being shuffled back into another taxi.

**To Be Continued... (in the next chapter - soon!)**


	7. Chapter 6 The Double Date, Part 2

**A/N: Hello, lovely readers! First of all, I'm so, so, so sorry this update took so long - life keeps getting in the way! So thank you to all those of you who have alerted, favorited, reviewed - and most importantly, stuck with me! I'll try to update faster in the future. Please enjoy the second half of the double date - thanks for reading - and I'll love you forever if you'll review to tell me what you think!**

When they emerged from the taxi cab for the second time that evening, both Kurt and Rachel – still blindfolded and whining accordingly – could instantly tell they were in the heart of NYC. The streets were loud with voices as well as the squeals and hisses and general cacophony of traffic. Both were being guided by their boyfriends' hands on their shoulders, nevertheless bumping into people every few feet. Blaine and Finn muttered apologies as they passed, shrugging helplessly and shrinking away from the cussers, until Rachel said, "We're in Times Square, aren't we?"

Finn and Blaine exchanged glances, silently debating on whether or not to release their hostages. Then they simultaneously unknotted the fabric at the back of their charge's heads. Well, almost simultaneously - Finn struggled a little, lagging, and Kurt and Blaine stopped short, blocking foot traffic to watch. Rachel let out a very low, quiet whine. "Your hands are so big. Let Blaine."

"Normally you're not complaining about my big hands," Finn growled.

Kurt and Blaine both snickered at the uncharacteristic comment as the giant finally managed to get the blindfold off. Kurt interrupted Rachel's embarrassed spluttering to ask the obvious question with a dangerous smile: "What are we _doing_ in Times Square?"

"I love you, I do, but pipe down," Blaine answered, smirking. "We took your blinders off so we wouldn't get cut by anyone in the crowd, but tonight's still a surprise."

And for once in their lives, both Kurt and Rachel just let it go, because both of them were silently hoping for it to be much more than what either of their boys could possibly come up with.

"We're totally coming here to watch the ball drop this year, just so you know," Finn looked over his shoulder to declare with authority, talking loudly to be heard over the dimly humming crowd. He and Kurt were leading, each dragging his significant other by the hand. Blaine and Rachel just nodded brightly. He turned to Kurt, who grinned.

"Of course we are."

Finn slowed down as they reached their destination, blazing a trail through the throng with his shoulders. Blaine and Rachel spilled up beside them, Blaine with a knowing smile, Rachel and Kurt frowning slightly.

"Here we are!" Finn said brightly.

"…M&M World?" Rachel asked, blinking up at the giant fake piece of candy over her head.

Finn and Blaine grinned and nodded, then pulled Kurt and Rachel into the building.

Both of the planners were wide-eyed and nearly drooling as they looked around at all the eye-wateringly bright candy. Blaine turned back to Kurt, looking apologetic.

"Go," Kurt barked, laughing. "You too," he commanded Finn, who was practically panting with excitement. Finn smiled, then turned and tore off into the store after his co-conspirator.

Rachel and Kurt watched with the same fond expression, then looked at each other, laughed, and linked arms. "They really have no idea how to plan a date, do they?" Rachel giggled.

Kurt watched with raised eyebrows as Finn pulled the handle for the lime green M&Ms without putting a bag under the chute. There was a loud scattering noise as chocolates skittered and bounced in all directions. "No, no they absolutely do not."

"But look at how happy they are," Rachel said, pointing toward the back of the store, where Blaine had already managed to tuck a giant stuffed M&M under his arm and was riding the escalator up to the second floor, beaming. She yanked on Kurt's arm to pull him out of the path of a few sticky toddlers. "It's almost as good as a really fun date, just seeing them this happy."

Kurt turned to look at her, disbelief etched in his face. "OK, bodysnatching alien – where is Rachel? And what do we have to do to get her back?" Rachel gasped and gave him a little shove. "OK, OK – You were kind of a self-centered pain in high school. I'm just trying to process the fact that now you're happy simply because the people you love are happy." He looked back out at the store – Finn had six bags of M&Ms and was going for a seventh, Blaine was waving exaggeratedly from the balcony of the second floor – then back at Rachel. "And you really do love all of us, don't you?" he asked.

"Of course I do. We're a family," she answered simply.

"Yes – yes, I suppose we are."

* * *

><p>Thirty minutes (and over a hundred dollars – "What do you mean they're seven dollars a pound? I have 8.7 pounds worth?") later, they emerged into Times Square. It was starting to get dark, and the crowds had swelled while they were in the store.<p>

Blaine had decided to lead them through the throng despite being not much bigger than Rachel. Kurt was pressed close behind him, one hand linked through his and the other with Rachel's, while Finn bumbled along behind like an oversized caboose. "What way is the closest subway station?" Kurt asked.

Blaine looked over his shoulder and exchanged a shifty glance with Finn. "Oh, this way," he muttered, stepping off the sidewalk and nearly getting them all flattened by an overloaded pedicab. When they had sidestepped that incident (the bicyclist ringing his bell angrily) they started to navigate away from the worst of the crowd.

Rachel spotted it first. "Oh, look, Kurt! Gershwin. Doesn't it seem like forever ago that we broke in to sing 'For Good'? And now look at us – you're designing for a new show, I'm about to make my debut in a Sondheim classic –"

"We knew, even back then," Kurt agreed. "And it's all worked out just as we planned, hasn't it?"

They had nearly reached the theatre, where a sizeable crowd was waiting outside the doors. "Wicked is a nearly peerless musical, it's no wonder people are still lining up for it," Rachel announced. "It was wonderful when the national tour came to Columbus, I can't imagine how great it must be on Broadway."

Blaine stopped so quickly that Kurt, Rachel, and Finn all nearly fell over top of him. He gave Finn a meaningful look and Finn suddenly reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. "Would you like to find out?"

"Would we like to find what out?" Kurt asked.

"What Wicked is like on Broadway, silly," Blaine said, bumping his shoulder against Kurt's.

"Oh my Barbra, you didn't," Rachel whispered.

"We did," Finn grinned, holding up four tickets.

Kurt and Rachel both made squeeing noises and hugged their boyfriends, then hugged each other, then hugged each other's boyfriends. Blaine and Finn looked mildly shell-shocked, laughing. "I'm going to guess this makes up for the carriage ride incident?" Blaine mused.

"And the portion of our budget I spent on chocolate?" Finn ventured sheepishly.

Rachel fluttered her hands. "Yes, yes, yes, yes!"

Rachel and Kurt immediately fell to discussing the current cast and the strengths and weaknesses of their respective favorite Elphabas and all other things Wicked. Blaine and Finn watched with amused smiles as their significant others had the equivalent of their M&M World experience – the two didn't stop talking until the overture began and launched right back into discussion with shiny eyes during the intermission.

But it wasn't until "For Good", when Kurt and Rachel grabbed each others' hands while tears poured down their faces, that Blaine and Finn leaned around behind them and pounded fists – there was no question that they had gotten this evening right.

They had a little trouble getting their Glinda and Elphaba out of the theater (Kurt was yelling "bravo! Brava!" so loudly they were afraid they might get thrown out, and Rachel had managed to sob through the bows) but when they did spill back out into the dark streets, both Broadway lovers were silent as they only were when they were perfectly content.

They decided to spring for yet another taxi ride to avoid the late-night subway after they picked up a few snacks from a convenience store, too tired to get a proper meal. The four of them were relatively quiet on the way home but when they climbed the steps to the apartment, Rachel stopped Finn and Blaine and grabbed a hand from each. "I know we gave you guys a hard time, but that might have been the best date I've ever been on. Thank you."

Kurt nodded. "Yes, thank you both. This night was amazing."

Blaine smiled. "So you'll trust us to plan things again?"

"Let's not get hasty."

"Why exhaust yourself while we're around?"

And, laughing like fools, the little family piled back into their home for a good night's rest.


	8. Chapter 7 Baking with Blainchel

**A/N: Hey, look guys, a quick update - what is happening? :) Thanks to everyone for all your kind reviews, alerts, and favorites! Each one means so much to me - it really helps me write faster! Thanks so much for reading - I hope you enjoy it, and please let me know what you think and review!**

Kurt had warned Blaine - he had.

"Listen, I love Rachel as much as you do, I do. I not only recognize her as an incredible talent, I genuinely appreciate her as a person. But you do not want to spend an entire day baking with her."

And Blaine of course, had brushed him off with his usual efficacy - he was the live-in chef, and there was no reason he shouldn't join his fellow hobbit in whipping up a few batches of cookies for the _Company_opening night cast party. "What's the worst that could happen?"

Blaine seriously wondered why people EVER asked that question.

The baking morning started out great. When Blaine stumbled into the kitchen, still wearing his red jersey pajama pants and a thin white v-neck, he found Rachel drizzling strawberry sauce over a plateful of pancakes, which she promptly delivered to him along with a can of Redi-whip. "Good morning, baking partner!" she said brightly - if she hadn't been feeding him, Blaine might have found her chipper attitude at such an early hour offensive - but he just nodded and thanked her as she flew back across the kitchen. He was eating his first forkful when she crossed back to him, waving a piece of paper. "I have an itinerary prepared for today - here's your copy -"

That was when Blaine realized that he was in for a very long day.

"I thought we'd do the snickerdoodles first - unless you think it'd be better to start with the caramel apples so they have enough time to cool..."

"Would that be followed by -" Blaine glanced down at the sheet - "molten chocolate cakes and... Reese's peanut butter brownies and... pillow cookies and... Apple Jack cupcakes?" Rachel nodded vigorously, mouth open to speak, but Blaine cut her off. "No, Rach. You do not need six different desserts to take to the cast party. I'm all for helping you but pick a couple here and we'll get this done sometime today."

Rachel pouted - actually pouted, like a toddler not getting its way - and sighed deeply. "But, I have to make a really good impression!"

"Rachel, first of all, you've spent a quarter of your time for the last four months with the cast, I don't think they're going to decide to love or hate you on how many different sweets you bring them after opening night." She opened her mouth again to protest, but Blaine made a "zip it!" motion with the hand not shoveling pancake into his mouth and she stopped, looking scandalized. "Second, even if your contribution to the dinner WAS going to change how your castmates view you, I think any ONE of these deserts, with both of us making it, would be more than enough to win them over."

Rachel smiled a little, her hand fluttering at her chest (Blaine silently congratulated himself - he could somehow defuse Rachel Berry better than her best friend and her boyfriend) and picked a pen off the counter before scratching out the brownies, snickerdoodles, and chocolate cakes on Blaine's itinerary sheet. "OK, let's move on!" Rachel chirruped.

"You only crossed out three…" Blaine pointed out with a small sigh.

"Caramel apples first it is!"

* * *

><p>Kurt wandered into the kitchen expecting to find at least one of his roommates burnt beyond recognition, or prostrated on the floor, or at the very least sobbing quietly. Instead he found his boyfriend and best friend giggling, Rachel tossing chocolate chips into Blaine's open mouth as he stirred a pot with wild abandon.<p>

"You guys have made a mess," he complained. And they had – there were sprinkles and shaved coconut and miniature Reese's Pieces and slivered almonds all over the counter, and the floor – but it was clear that Kurt's comment came out of bitterness that they hadn't killed one another yet.

"Art is messy, Kurt," Blaine laughed over his shoulder, his arm still working desperately to stir.

Kurt leaned over him to glance into the pot. "What are you making anyway?"

"Caramel apples!" Rachel supplied gleefully. "And pillow cookies… and Apple Jack cupcakes." There was a loud beeping noise, causing all three of them to jump. Blaine and Rachel both laughed when they realized it was the timer. "Brownies are done! Blaine, you're going to have to move –"

"Brownies?" Kurt said.

Blaine shifted sideways, still churning, as Rachel pulled on her oven mitts and yanked the oven open, releasing a cloud of heat into the kitchen. "Kurt, hand me a knife," she ordered imperiously, reaching a hand behind her for the utensil. Kurt grabbed one out of the drawer and handed it to her. "Yes, they're done – watch out, boys, I'm taking them out –"

"I think we can dip again," Blaine said.

"Just a second!"

Rachel tossed the pan of brownies onto the counter and dashed to the table, where there were several skewered apples – some decorated with colored sugar and nuts and candies, some just dipped, and two plain, shiny green – and pulled one of the fresh apples off the pan.

"I'm going in," she warned. Blaine pulled away and Rachel plunged the apple into the mixture, spinning the skewer, Blaine spooning caramel over the bits she couldn't reach. "Next!" she yelled when it was fully  
>dipped. Kurt had no choice but to be impressed by their teamwork - Blaine slid a bowl full of the chocolate chips Rachel had been feeding him earlier across the counter so she could twist the apple through<br>them. Blaine dragged the entire tray from the table to the counter, and Rachel dropped the finished apple alongside the others.

"You've really got this down, don't you?" Kurt mused as the two grabbed the last apple for dipping. "Neither of you appear to be injured - you're not screaming... I must say I am confused."

"We work well as a team," Blaine said, leaning around Rachel to flash a smile at his boyfriend.

Kurt considered the slightly steaming pan of brownies for a moment, then threw caution to the wind and dug a finger into the corner, burning himself a little but quickly soothing it by licking the brownie off. He made a pleased noise. "I don't understand it, but don't stop. Oh my Lord, these are amazing," he muttered as he wandered back out of the kitchen.

"Imagine when they're baked inside a chocolate chip cookie!" Rachel called behind him.

Kurt wasn't one to flip for food, but his eyes rolled back in his head at the thought.

* * *

><p>Finn snuffled into the kitchen looking for food while the cupcakes were baking. Rachel and Blaine were singing "Point of No Return" with heartbreakingly perfect pitch and both dark-haired hobbits – and the entire kitchen – were dusted with white.<p>

"Are you guys making meth in here or something?" he interrupted. "Because if you are, meth smells _awesome._" He dropped a messy stack of books on the counter and beelined to the cooling, hand-sized pillow cookies, grabbing one and fumbling it as, still warm, it started to crumble. Finn shoveled the entire mass into his mouth with a single bite and chewed at it. "'Ooo guys soun' goo' together. Dees are awesome. I love you."

And he grabbed his books and backed out of the kitchen, pointing to them, then back at himself, then back to them, until he disappeared out the apartment door.

Rachel half-collapsed with giggles into Blaine's shoulder, blowing flour everywhere.

* * *

><p>Kurt and Finn got back to the apartment at the same time. The scents of the day hit them in the face when they opened the door – chocolate and cinnamon and <em>sugar<em>. "Tonight is going to be awesome," Finn murmured.

"You know they made this stuff for Rachel's cast party, right?" Kurt asked.

"Uh, yeah…"

"That means we – I mean you – have to restrain yourself."

"What? Dude, no we don't. They're _theatre kids_, Kurt, they don't need to _eat._ I mean, most of 'em aren't as talented as Rachel. They need to get used to not eating."

Kurt narrowly stifled a laugh with a hand to his mouth. "I can't believe you just said that." He put his bag down by the door. "Actually, I can, but I can't believe Rachel isn't protesting for herself. You don't think they're still baking, do you?" He started towards the kitchen but stopped when he saw his boyfriend and best friend lying on the couch together. Rachel was facedown in the arm rest on one end, her dark hair splayed everywhere. Blaine was curled into a tight ball on the other. There was a half-eaten tray of cupcakes and cookies on the coffee table, and both little bakers were out like lights.

"They've exhausted themselves," he said fondly, grinning at the adorable picture before him.

"Now's our chance, man, we gotta get in there, get some cupcakes before they wake up." Finn tossed his books on the floor – they slid everywhere – and charged toward the coffee table, taking two Apple Jack-topped cupcakes and inhaling them.

"Make sure you take the papers off, Finn," Kurt sighed. On cue, Finn choked and spluttered, making terrible faces as he tried to spit out the cupcake wrapper.

"Why do they even use these things?" Finn complained. "But thanks…"

Blaine stirred, opening one eye, the other half-obscured by an errant curl. "Finn? Kurt? You guys home already?" His voice was muted and hazy. He stretched, accidentally kicking Rachel in the stomach – she groaned in a most loud and unfeminine manner and bolted upright, fists at the ready but still struggling to open her eyes.

"Did you two seriously bake yourselves into a coma?" Kurt asked, still smiling widely.

"No," Rachel said, not entirely sure of what she was denying.

Kurt laughed and sat himself on Blaine's end of the couch, wrapping his arms around his boyfriend's neck. "You guys are so adorable it almost hurts," he giggled, squeezing him tighter.

Finn half-smiled. "Yeah, you are pretty cute." He hugged Rachel, pushing his chin onto her shoulder. And then, behind her back, he reached around to sneak a cookie off the plate.

It was a testament to the power of the sugar rush that all four of them just laughed.

* * *

><p>In the end, Finn – and Kurt, and Blaine – all got as many of the sweet treats as they liked.<p>

All three boys flew in the face of propriety and attended the cast party after Rachel's opening night – after all, each of them needed to hug her and kiss her and brag loudly to every person they passed on the street about their roommate the Broadway star.


	9. Chapter 8 Hammy Comes Home

**A/N: Hi everyone! It's been FOREVER, but the Klaine/Finchel apartment fic is finally updated! Thank you so much to every single person who favorited, alerted, or reviewed. I hope you enjoy this chapter, and that you'll be kind enough to keep reviewing! Much love!**

Kurt first got suspicious on the day he smelled the cedar.

It was a faint scent, sure, but Kurt's olfactory senses had been honed by a lifetime of dissecting top notes from heart notes in the search for the perfect cologne, and he prided himself on his ability to pick up even the faintest vestige of woodsy musk. He followed the smell, frowning slightly, to the edge of the kitchen counter and crouched to find a handful of cedar shavings scattered across the linoleum.

"Blaine?" he called, scooping the shavings up in one hand. No answer. "Blaine!"

"Yeah, Kurt?"

"Are you playing Boggle on your phone again?" There was silence again. "Blaine!"

"Eon! Hell yes, no one ever gets eon - Sorry, Kurt, what?"

"I said are you - oh, never mind, I know the answer. But stay with me a second here. Do you have any idea why there are wood chips all over the floor?"

There was another silence and Kurt popped up from behind the granite, expecting to find his boyfriend bent over and pecking wildly at his little iPhone screen. But the iPhone was lying forgotten on the countertop and Blaine was staring at him, all deer-in-the-headlights, with a rosy blush creeping into his cheeks.

"Ohhhkay, that is a frightening expression. What did you do?"

Blaine's eyebrows shot skyward. "Nothing, Kurt. Why would you even susp -" He quieted at Kurt's bitch face. "Umm, okay, I'm sorry, I really didn't want to say anything but you know how Finn's gym bag smells up the whole living room?" Kurt gave him a "go-on" nod, one immaculately plucked eyebrow arched. "Well, I offered to show him how to make a cedar sachet, as a fun craft, you know? And then I convinced him to stick it in his duffel bag. It should keep the stench down and I know your sensitive nose will appreciate that!"

Kurt nodded cautiously. " And Finn spilled shavings in the middle of your little art project?" he asked.

"He must have. Sorry I didn't clean up after him properly. It's a full-time job, you know," Blaine said fondly. Kurt was seized with a sudden desire to kiss his boyfriend for taking such good care of both his brother and him.

This desire was killed when Blaine groaned. "Man, somebody else got eon while we were talking..."

* * *

><p>Kurt found his suspicions roused again a few days later. It was late - Blaine had had a recital, which meant all four of them pretty much had to go out for celebratory ice cream afterwards - and they had just settled into bed for the night when he heard it.<p>

Blaine was draped over Kurt, his curls tickling the small triangle of chest exposed by Kurt's silky pajama top. Blaine always fell asleep first, and his breath was already even and slow, his entire body rising and falling with each of Kurt's steady inhales. Kurt loved these moments before his own sleep overtook him, loved watching the man that meant the world to him so peaceful or listening to the unerring thunk of his heartbeat, when their positions were reversed. He was raking his fingers through Blaine's hair - they both found it incredibly comforting - but when he heard the loud squeaking noise, they knotted in the curls hard enough that Blaine jerked awake, a murderous look on his face.

"What the _hell _are you doing, Kurt?" he hissed.

Kurt waved away Blaine's sleep-induced bitchiness - he was used to it, Lord knows. "Do you hear that?"

Blaine didn't even cock his head to listen. "What I HEAR is you having a random-ass need to pull my hair which, don't get me wrong, is one of the best things you do in some situations but when a man is trying to sleep -"

Kurt flinked him in the nose - not hard, just enough to get his attention. "Listen, drama queen. Do you hear that weird squeaking noise?"

"I've told you before, the only sexy part of listening in on Finn and Rachel is that note she hits at the end. I have no interest in listening to the mattress creaking as Finn -"

"OK! Do not go any farther with that scenario! Lord, you worry me when you talk about these things like you've spent time imagining them. And anyway, that is not 'bed-rocking' squeaking. If you would shut up and listen -"

Blaine finally did as he was told. The noise was faint, but it was there, a regular and insistent "squeak-squeak-squeak."

"I'll go check it out," Blaine said, his just-woken-up angst receding. He peeled himself away from Kurt and out of the bed, tucking the covers back around his boyfriend as he slipped through the door into the living room.

Kurt lay blinking in the darkness of their room. The squeaking continued. He heard what sounded like a muffled whisper and the noise stopped for a moment, then started again. A door - Finn and Rachel's - opened and closed. The squeaking stopped.

Blaine slid back into the bed, his hands snaking around Kurt as he wiggled back into his earlier position.

"What was it?" Kurt asked when it was clear Blaine wasn't offering his own explanation.

"Turns out I was right. Your brother and best friend were totally getting it on, and man were they -"

"OK! Good night then!"

Blaine giggled a little at Kurt's panic and snuggled harder into his chest. "I love you."

"Yeah, yeah, I love you too. Now go to sleep, you creepy little voyeur."

"Your pet names are always so endearing," Blaine mumbled against Kurt's skin.

Kurt just tangled his fingers in Blaine's hair once more and gazed down at the beautiful boy entwined around him.

* * *

><p>It wasn't even Kurt that found the third suspicious clue. It was Rachel. She had drafted Finn and Blaine for a marathon session of gift wrapping - she was presenting each of her Company castmates... and the entire orchestra... and the crew... and set designers... with gold star keychains - and she took a brief break from rewrapping every one of Finn's packages when Blaine sucked in a breath and started shaking his finger.<p>

"Blaine?" she questioned, looking up with concern.

"Oh, I just caught my finger on the tape dispenser," he whined, wincing but waving her away even as she dropped her scissors and climbed gingerly over the sheets of wrapping paper to kneel beside him.

"Hand," she commanded, and when Blaine didn't immediately offer it, she grabbed anyway. She turned his palm over to study the cut better and frowned. "Umm, Blaine?" He looked up at her, a too-innocent grin stretched across his features. "Finn has the exact same kind of cuts on his fingers, don't you, honey? Finn!"

There was a ripping noise as Finn snapped to attention, tearing the package he was holding in his haste. He held up both hands in self-defense, revealing Hello Kitty bandaids on every finger.

Rachel brushed a thumb along the scabs of Blaine's fingertips. "I swear, they almost look like tiny bite marks. What did you say yours were from, Finn?"

"Uhh, posterboard cuts?"

Blaine gave him an incredulous look from behind Rachel, mouthing out a "SERIOUSLY?" He struggled to put his innocent mask back on as the brunette spun to face him. "Oh, yeah, Rachel, I was helping Finn with his… science project…" he stammered, struggling not to roll his eyes at his own story and shrugging slightly when Finn threw the look of incredulity back at him.

"While I truly appreciate whatever help you give Finn, you shouldn't be hurting yourself doing it! You won't do me much good as a wrapper if you're bleeding all over the packages. I'm going to bandage you up properly – I'm surprised Kurt hasn't already done it himself –" Her words trailed off as Rachel disappeared into the bathroom. A few minutes later, she reappeared with a grin and a metal bandaid box in the shape of a cat's head. Blaine groaned, but – much like Finn – secretly loved the idea of having kittens gazing back at him all day long.

Kurt only found out about the incident later that day, when Rachel scolded him for letting his boyfriend's wounds go untended. "They looked like bite marks?" he asked again, urging Rachel to expand.

"Yes but he was helping Finn with a science project and they both got posterboard cuts -"

"Have you SEEN this science project?" Kurt asked.

There was a moment when he was sure Rachel was right with him on seeing through the web of lies. Then she scoffed. "No, but I'm sure they did it while we were at rehearsals. Or shopping. They wouldn't hide anything from us - would they?"

Kurt just inclined his head in answer.

"What do you think it is, Kurt? What do you - oh Lord, Kurt, you don't think they've joined a fight club, do you?"

"What? No -"

"You don't understand, the week and a half Finn was in a fight club was the most terrifying period of my life. He'd drag through the door with blood spilling out his nose -"

"Are you sure he hadn't just blown his nose too hard again?"

"-and I had to give him backrubs every night for two months because he pinched a nerve -"

"How is it that you were class salutatorian and yet you believe every story my dim brother tells you?"

"- and one time he - wait, what?"

"They're not in a fight club, Rachel. If you'll listen to me for just a minute, I will tell you my theory!"

She fell silent, her lips working slightly with the effort of being quiet. "OK."

Kurt glanced toward the living room. Chainsawing noises were spilling out, accompanied by jubilant whoops, as the boys in question got their X-Box fix. He gestured Rachel up and led her into his room.

Rachel sat, frowning and nodding, on the end of the bed as Kurt paced and explained - first about the cedar shavings. Rachel literally bounced. "Yes, I saw Finn throwing away an almost-full bag of cedar shavings a few days ago."

"Did he explain what they had been for?"

"Well, he got sort of red and tried to tell me that he and Blaine were doing something with them, but I was overwhelmed that he was throwing away a perfectly compostable material -"

Kurt pressed the base of his palm to his temple. "We live in an apartment in New York City, we don't even - " He sighed. "Anyway, a few nights ago, I heard this loud squeaking noise, and Blaine thought -" Kurt's cheeks were abruptly peachy. "Blaine thought maybe you and Finn were..."

Rachel squinted. "Thought we were what?"

"You know..." Kurt waved a hand that was supposed to be nonchalant. "...'bed-rocking.'"

Rachel actually snorted in response. "Honestly, Kurt, we're both adults here, I'd think you could talk about intercourse without getting uncomfortable!" She doubled over, still gasping out giggles.

"See, you calling it 'intercourse'? Way worse," he muttered.

"In answer to your unasked question, I heard this squeaking noise a few nights ago, too. Actually Finn kept trying to convince me that you and Blaine were enjoying one another's attentions, but I know your mattress doesn't make that kind of noise."

"So it wasn't either one of - wait, what? How do you know what kind of noise my mattress makes?"

"Nope, none of if was us. So you must have a theory, Kurt. You said you did."

"I - you haven't answered my question!"

Rachel flipped her hair over one shoulder. "That's OK. I've assembled the clues myself. Cedar shavings, squeaking noises in the night, paperboard cuts on their fingers and general secretiveness -"

"I think they're hiding a hamster," Kurt blurted out.

"That is not where I was going, but that actually makes a lot of sense."

"Come on. Confrontation time." Kurt grabbed Rachel's hand and pulled her off his bed, through the kitchen and into the living room. Neither of their boyfriends looked up as they stormed into the room. Kurt stepped in front of the TV - there was a loud squishing sound and animated blood splashed onto the screen behind him.

"Kurt, we're almost done." Blaine's voice was soft and pleading.

"Oh my gosh, I'm dying, I'm dying Kurt get out of the way -" Finn continued to mash buttons blindly until Kurt inched his foot back and, without looking, used his big toe to press the power button. Finn threw the controller at the floor hard enough that it bounced, and Rachel scolded him for his immaturity until Kurt gave her a silencing glare.

When Kurt had all three roommates' undivided attention, he let out a lengthy breath and just came out with it. "Are you guys hiding a hamster?"

Blaine covered immediately - "what in the world would make you think that?" - but Finn gave them both away by sliding down into the couch, guilt written all over his face.

"Where is it, Finn?"

"Where's what?" Finn choked.

"The hamster."

Blaine, too, was shrinking into the couch cushions now. The two boys looked at each other and each bit their lips, wincing with anticipation but refusing to speak.

"Only you two could hide a hamster in an apartment this size. Now where have you stuffed the poor thing? And why do you even _have_ a hamster?"

"They were going to experiment on him!" Finn suddenly wailed. "He was the experiment hamster in my zoology class and I – I couldn't let them inject him with steroids and stuff, I just couldn't. So I rescued –" The rest of Finn's words were obscured as Rachel flung herself on top of him, peppering him with kisses.

Blaine curled up on himself even more as he was suddenly the sole recipient of Kurt's attention. "Blaine, baby, where's the hamster?" Kurt simpered sweetly, dangerously.

"It's uh, it's - it's – just let me show you," he sighed, pushing himself up.

Kurt followed him into the kitchen worriedly. His apprehensions were not assuaged when Blaine opened one of the bottom cabinet doors and revealed, in a clearing of pots and pans, a small metal cage, lined with wood shavings and mounted with a big plastic wheel. Sleeping soundly in the middle was a downy grey hamster, its nose twitching slightly.

Blaine braced himself for the explosion: "YOU'RE LETTING THIS RODENT LIVE WHERE WE KEEP OUR COOKING UTENSILS? DO YOU KNOW WHAT KIND OF DISEASES THEY CARRY? WE COULD ALL HAVE DIED! THIS IS THE MOST UNSANITARY THING I HAVE EVER WITNESSED –"

But Kurt only poked a finger through the cage bars, straining to pet the soft-looking fur. As his skin finally made contact, the hamster popped awake and turned on a dime, teeth bared. Kurt yanked back just in time, flexing his saved digit. "Yeah, Hammy's kind of a biter," Blaine said apologetically, wiggling his own bandaged fingers.

"Hammy?"

"Finn named him, I am not responsible."

"Well, I guess we should just be thankful it's not Drizzle," Kurt snickered softly. The disgruntled hamster pressed its nose against the bars and Kurt had to actively restrain himself from tickling it. "He's kind of sweet, really."

Blaine giggled. "Finn or Hammy?"

Kurt snorted and pointed into the cage. "Well, let's bring him out here. If we're going to keep him we can't very well leave him in the cupboard."

"Keep him?" Blaine asked, eyebrows rising.

"You heard Finn, they were going to experiment on him. And Rachel would probably be prostrated at the idea of selling him to a pet shop –"

Blaine hugged Kurt unexpectedly and then ducked to pull the cage out from under the cabinet, jarring Hammy, who chittered unhappily.

They found Finn and Rachel still on the couch. "Hey, hey, not in front of innocent eyes!" Blaine called.

"Your eyes are far from innocent," Rachel said without moving.

Blaine held up the cage, and Finn, finally seeing, pushed Rachel off of him. "He's talking about Hammy."

"Hammy?"

"Your boyfriend named him," Blaine said defensively for the second time.

The other couple peered into the cage Blaine had set on the coffee table. "Oh, he's too cute," Rachel squealed, reaching out tentatively to touch the hamster's nose through the bars.

"WAIT!" all three boys yelled in unison. "He's a biter!"

* * *

><p>While there were moments when Hammy's life was threatened (the day the "no pets" clause in their rental agreement was questioned, the time he bit Blaine's fingers right before a major classical guitar performance, and every single night when that wheel went "squeak-squeak-squeaking" into oblivion), there was never any question of where the hamster belonged. He was part of the family, now.<p> 


	10. Chapter 9 A Furt in a Whirlwind

**A/N: Hello, everyone! First off, thank all of you so much for reading and alerting and favoriting and reviewing - I scream and dance around every single time I get a notification from one of you!**

**It's been a while since my last update, but I hope the fact that this is the longest chapter yet will make up for that in some small way. (Oh, and there are a lot of Broadway references in this one - please let me know if you love or hate them!)**

**Thanks again for reading - it means the world - and please let me know what you think and review. As always, I take all your suggestions into account - in fact, this chapter sprung from such a suggestion!**

**Sorry for the long-winded note. Much love and happy reading!**

They don't fight.

Ever.

They bicker, of course. Finn risks evisceration once when the Canucks game he's recording runs over and _Singin' in the Rain_gets erased off the DVR. There's a minor blow-up when Finn and Blaine both let out unmentionable noises watching Rachel and Kurt do yoga in the living room and no one's sure who caused it. And there's never any lack of spats over who gets TV control or cleans up the apartment that week. But more often than not, these "fights" end in four-way cuddle parties. So the first real fight after they move in together nearly takes them to the ground.

It starts innocently. Kurt and Rachel decide to go out for an open casting call. They've both heard from good sources that there's a revival of _West Side Story_ in the works (Kurt makes a scoffing noise and asks when there isn't a revival of _West Side Story_in the works) and, brashly disregarding that they're too Caucasian to land a big part even if they weren't stupidly young and inexperienced, they start snapping and pirouetting around the apartment and doing dramatic reenactments of "America" complete with offensively bad Puerto Rican accents.

Rachel mentions being the next Maria every five minutes until Blaine makes a horribly inappropriate joke about needing to turn the Sharks into the Shaloms that ends in everyone having to eat vegan bagels and falafel for the next week.

Kurt, on the other hand, is aiming for Riff and prepares by gelling his hair up and begging Finn to act through the fight scene with him over and over. Finn's lack of acting skill and Kurt's lack of fighting skill result in several bruises for both parties and infinite laughs for the other members of the household.

On the day of the casting call, Blaine decides to tag along. "My songwriting teacher wants me to get out and experience things," he shrugs in explanation. "Broadway auditions count, right?"

"You don't stand a chance," Kurt and Rachel inform him in stereo. Blaine actually takes comfort in the statement - he knows it's the only thing that will keep the pair of them from pushing him onto the subway tracks on the way there.

Things are pretty hectic at the call itself and Blaine gets separated from his two divas almost immediately when Rachel recognizes a few people from an off-Broadway Cats revival and drags Kurt with her to greet them.

He wanders somewhat blindly through the throng, people-watching and eavesdropping, mining carefully for songwriting gold. Then a scary woman with too much curly blonde hair and cat-eye glasses starts yelling and herding him along with dozens of others into a holding room.

He expects to meet back up with Kurt and Rachel there, but - looking around - doesn't see them anywhere. So when the fro-headed woman starts numbering everyone off and sending them in all directions, he decides to play along in the interest of gaining life experience.

He's taught a dance routine that involves doing the jerk and the swim. He barely survives (his dance experience is limited to step-touching and climbing furniture, after all) but when his group is given the OK, he's shunted into another small room with two austere people that are sniffing into their clipboards.

"Name?" one of them asks, scribbling it down boredly. Then the judge nods to the accompanist at the piano, who promptly launches into a rollicking rhythm.

Blaine just blinks awkwardly, not sure what to do since he's watched Zefron sing "Ladies' Choice" about a zillion times and he knows that it's not from _West Side Story_.

"I'm sorry, are you deaf?" the man with the clipboard asks, waving it in disgust. "You know you're supposed to come in on the last chorus. Get it together... Blaine," he says, sneering down at the page, "or you're out of here."

And Blaine can't disappoint Zefron. He can't. So this time, when the accompanist bangs into song, Blaine lets out a scream and slides to his knees.

* * *

><p>An hour later, Blaine stumbles back into the lobby of the audition building holding a stack of papers to find Kurt and Rachel, both with arms crossed and expressions of disgruntlement that would not have been out of place on wet cats.<p>

"Where have you been?" Kurt hisses.

"We have been calling you for an HOUR," Rachel huffs.

Blaine finds himself backing out of clawing distance as he digs in his pocket for his phone. "I had my phone off during the auditions," he exclaims defensively, thumbing it on to see two calls from Kurt and six from Rachel. "How'd your auditions go?"

"Abysmally," Kurt groans. Rachel makes a noise of offense and he rolls his eyes. "I'm sorry, MY audition was abysmal, primarily because they told me I was - and I quote - 'too aesthetically pleasing' to be a gang member." Kurt rolls his eyes again when Blaine nods vigorously. "Anyway, after they heard Rachel's Spanish they told her she wasn't quite what they were looking for, but they had parts in another production that's casting here today so -"

"You're looking at the newest Penny Pingleton!" Rachel squeals, jumping up and down a little. "I'm going to be in an off-Broadway of _Hairspray_!"

Blaine yanks her into a hug, laughing. "Oh, Rach, I'm so excited for you!"

Kurt pinches the bridge of his nose, apparently already tired out with the celebration. "So - where were you, Blaine?"

The two hobbits pull away from each other so that Rachel can also look questioningly up at the curly-haired boy.

"Uh... Well. I -" Blaine tries unsuccessfully to bite back a smile. "I got a part in _Hairspray_, too."

Kurt forces a tiny smile and lets out a "heh."

Rachel screams and wraps herself around Blaine again. "Oh my gosh, we're going to be in a show together!" Blaine is powerless to escape Rachel's grasp for a few minutes - she has them literally jumping up and down - then she suddenly stops and pulls away. "Wait, are you one of the Corny Collins Show kids or -?"

"Actually... they're letting me play Link Larkin."

Rachel screams so loudly that heads turn and jumps on top of Blaine a third time, literally dangling from around his neck and peppering his cheek with kisses.

"Last I checked, this is not an airport and we are not in a romantic comedy," Kurt growls as he pulls his best friend off his boyfriend. Then he turns to Blaine and smiles without showing any teeth. "Congratulations, baby."

Blaine pulls Kurt against him, leaning up to kiss his forehead. "They need a few more dancers for the Corny Collins kids. I could ask –"

"No." Kurt bites out the word. "No, I don't want a charity role," he laughs.

"It wouldn't be –"

"Come on. If we go now we've got time to stop for consolatory – I mean, celebratory – gelato at Silk…"

Even though Blaine wants to push the issue with Kurt, he just gives him the "we'll talk later" look and entwines their hands. After all, he's not one to get between Rachel Berry and her vegan pistachio sundae.

* * *

><p>"OK, Rachel I get," Kurt whines, throwing himself upside down over the back of the couch beside his stepbrother, his hair brushing the cushions. "But Blaine is an <em>amateur<em>. OK, no, he's less than an amateur. And while I don't deny that his stubbornly boyish good looks and ability to make singing with a mic stand look vaguely illegal make him visually perfect for the role of Link Larkin, every scrap of acting experience he has he gained inside the gates of a theme park." The couch groans slightly as Kurt slides farther down its back and sighs. "I mean I'm happy for him. I am. It's just that I don't _understand_. And he's a _composition_ major. I mean I know I'm studying design but I've been actually working with shows and I'd be just as happy being on Broadway as I would designing and –" Another massive sigh as he drags his hands down the side of the couch. "Why am I even telling you all this?"

Finn quirks an eyebrow, and even upside down, Kurt's fairly certain that means Finn doesn't know, either. _Shocking_. But then Finn frowns. "You're really upset about this, aren't you?"

Kurt lets himself fall the rest of the way down, face planting in the cushions before kicking over so that he's on his knees in front of the couch. "Your emotional intelligence is astounding, Finn," he grumbles into the fabric.

"But you could get a role, too! I heard him telling you that he would talk to the director –"

"Yes, he's mentioned that he could 'pull a couple of strings' a few dozen times now." Kurt makes finger quotes and rolls his eyes.

"Then if you want to be in a show – "

Kurt sighs. "I don't want to be known as that extra that got in because his boyfriend is the director's darling. That's only one step away from sleeping your way into the business."

Finn doesn't say anything, and Kurt climbs up to sit beside him on the couch, neck stretched and eyes closed.

"He offered to turn down the part, if you can believe it. Link Larkin, and he offered to turn it down! That alone tells me he doesn't really deserve it."

"He's kind of crazy about you," Finn points out, finding it easier to talk now that he isn't looking at Kurt upside down. "Is that really such a bad thing?"

Kurt doesn't seem to hear him. "Of course I told him absolutely not. I'm not going to be some dream crusher."

"If you're this miserable about him being in it –"

"Could you _ever_ let Rachel quit Broadway just to make you happy?"

Finn starts. "Well, for one she would never even think about suggesting such a thing –" Kurt's glare silences him. "But no. I couldn't."

"Exactly."

Finn looks over at his stepbrother, frowning. "But then what are you going to do?"

"I'm jealous," he says with a tiny shrug and a shake of his head. "I can't do anything about it. But it feels good to admit it."

Finn just stares straight ahead for a minute. "You'll be in something a lot more exciting than _West Side Story_ or _Hairspray _one of these days_._ It's like you said – when _isn't_ there a revival of those shows going on?"

Kurt gives a little laugh. "Thank you, Finn."

"No problem, man," Finn says quietly. "You know, the Canucks are playing in half an hour – "

Kurt laughs and reaches across Finn for the remote. "Just because you provided moral support does not mean you get DVR privileges, Finn. You're supposed to be showing that kind of brotherly love anyway, you do not get a gold star."

* * *

><p>Blaine and Rachel try to keep their enthusiasm over the show to a low roar at home. Finn knows, since he specifically asked them to.<p>

Rachel had been offended, although once he explained his reasoning (and maybe helped change her mind with a few well-placed kisses) she folded. Blaine had hugged Finn just for thinking of it and then promised to do his best.

But the fact is that even if they aren't constantly talking about the choreography for "You Can't Stop the Beat", the two new stars are always away together until they come giggling into the apartment at weird times of day and night.

Finn starts trying to distract Kurt when the two of them have the apartment to themselves.

"Hey Kurt, wanna play Call of Duty?"

"Hey Kurt, wanna watch the game?"

"Hey Kurt, wanna go to my Fight Club meeting?"

When these attempts are unsuccessful, he tries a different tactic.

"Hey Kurt, wanna play Scrabble?"

"Hey Kurt, wanna make a collage?"

"Hey Kurt, wanna watch Gypsy?"

Sometimes it works.

* * *

><p>They talk about Rachel and Blaine the night they watch Hairspray drunk. Kurt points out all the ways in which Zac Efron is superior to Blaine and sings along loudly to "Miss Baltimore Crabs." Finn spills Miller all over himself when he pulls Kurt off the couch and dances him around the room to "(You're) Timeless to Me." Kurt has to talk him off the ledge when it hits him that Rachel will be locking lips with Seaweed every show. He expects Finn to reciprocate when he expresses his concerns that Blaine will be eaten alive by whoever's playing Tracy Turnblad but is disappointed.<p>

"At least Blaine is gay! It's not like you have to worry about him liking it!"

"Oh trust me, sweetie, odds are good that whoever's playing Seaweed will be queer as a three dollar bill, too."

"But Rachel's kinda into that!" Finn complains.

"On that note, I'm just glad she's not playing Tracy," Kurt half-slurs. He even accepts Finn's clumsy fist bump in response.

They watch lots of movies after that, sometimes drunk and sometimes sober, sprawled on the couch in the light of the TV. Twice they wake up in the living room to find themselves covered over with blankets. One of those times Kurt finds a note from Blaine - "Good morning, beautiful. Sorry we were out so late. I'll be waiting for you when you get this. ;)" - attached carefully to the quilt he's wrapped up in.

He rolls Finn off the couch and onto the ground in his haste to get up. Finn doesn't mind so much when he finds a similar note stuck to his forehead, signed with a gold star.

* * *

><p>Kurt is ecstatic on the last night of <em>Hairspray<em>'s run. Although he and Finn have been to see the show several times in the two weeks it's been on, they both agree to come to the last show to support Rachel and Blaine. Kurt's literally humming in the subway on the way there, a smile that hasn't been around much since the fateful auditions stretching his face.

He's so blissful, it takes him twenty minutes to realize that Finn's gloomier than ever, staring glumly into the corner and not even seeming to notice the man in the red, white and blue basketball uniform that's standing there and periodically yelling "Margaret!" into the crowded subway car.

"What's wrong?" he asks. Finn doesn't respond. "Hey," Kurt says, snapping to get Finn's attention. When the giant finally turns to him, he's got that kicked puppy expression. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Finn grumbles. "Must have drifted."

Kurt lets it drop. "They're finally going to be done, can you believe it?" he asks, grinning. "The apartment's going to feel so full. And we'll finally be able to go on dates again..." His sigh is a happy one.

"Yeah," Finn nods.

"Do you think that extra will throw up again tonight?"

"I dunno..."

The actors are mostly, like Blaine and Rachel, young and inexperienced, the product of a directorial experiment. The result is a cast that's talented, but unpolished. Finn likes the effect better than the professional shows, thinks it comes across as more real. Kurt finds it tacky and is pretty sure Finn only likes it because their roommates are in it. He can't really blame him – he likes it too, despite everything. Rachel makes a surprisingly comical Penny and Blaine sets the room on fire when he smolders out "It Takes Two." Finn loudly whispers "that's my girlfriend!" to other innocent audience members at every showing. Kurt can't help grinning when he does it, embarrassing as it is – he's proud of them, too.

The subway stops again and a few people shuffle out. He nudges Finn a few minutes later. "Don't forget that we've got to stop at the florist. I ordered traditional red roses for us both, but I had them do gold glitter on yours."

"Thanks, man," Finn says, his face lighting up. "She'll love that."

"I know she will," Kurt sniffs with superiority. Finn fixes him with a look of surprise. And he can't help it – after all the time they've spent together since Rachel and Blaine rode off into the Broadway sunset, they just can't be serious with one another. Kurt cracks and they're both laughing almost hysterically as they stumble out into the station.

As they're standing in line at the florist, Kurt realizes that Finn's gone distant again. "OK, Lurch, seriously, what's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"It's not nothing, this is the third time this evening I've caught you looking like someone erased your game save." Finn doesn't say anything, trying to shove his hands into pockets that are non-existent in his dress pants and avoiding Kurt's gaze. Kurt leans around him on tip toe to look him in the eye. "What's wrong, Finn? You aren't worried about that paper for your oral comm. class, are you? I'll proofread it again before you turn it in –"

"It's not the paper."

"Are you still sulking about wearing that suit? Because I know it's uncomfortable but Rachel just _loves_ you in it -"

"No."

Kurt searches his face. "I'm not a psychic, you know."

Finn's saved the trouble of answering for a few minutes when the person in front of them walks out with a huge vase of lilies. "Hi, we had orders for Hudson and Hummel," he says, suddenly eager to get the flowers.

"You are not getting out of this," Kurt hisses.

He keeps up a steady stream of threats and questions as they leave the shop and head down the street, Finn balancing both bouquets in his arms and steadfastly ignoring his step-brother. He doesn't stop until they reach the outside of the theatre, and he only stops then because Kurt grabs him by the arm and forcibly spins him around. "Finn Daniel Hudson, you tell me what's going on with you this second, or I will tear up your ticket and you will get to explain to Rachel why you weren't around for the closing night of her off-Broadway debut."

That evokes the response Kurt's looking for. "_Fine._" Finn takes in a heavy breath and sighs. "You're just _so _excited for Rachel and Blaine to be back around, and _I am, too_, I miss them both like crazy. But I guess I didn't realize it's been so hard for you, hanging out with me –"

"What?" Kurt's eyes widen and he shakes his head. "No, Finn, no, I… can't believe I'm saying this but I've _loved_ spending time with you. I mean, sure, I like for our whole little family to be together but you've been the one thing that's gotten me through all this. And we don't have to stop having drunken movie nights or anything else just because Rachel and Blaine are around again. I… wouldn't want to, actually."

"Really?"

"Really," Kurt nods.

Finn gives that little half smile Kurt knows so well. "Come on, if we don't get in there we'll miss that trombone player who drains his spit valve on the girl beside him."

And Kurt just can't argue with that.

* * *

><p>When the next open casting call is announced, Blaine decides not to tag along. He thinks it's going to be the best decision ever, since Kurt's also staying home. But he's proven wrong when Kurt relegates him to his room for the entire day.<p>

After all, he explains, how would he and Finn enjoy their marathon of the Star Wars saga with Blaine skulking around the living room?


	11. Interlude: Chapter 10 Preview

**A/N: **

**HI THERE. So, I used to write this little old thing back in the day, but then season 3 took things off the rails and I had to be a responsible adult and it kind of dropped off. **

**Luckily - or unluckily, depending on your perspective - the unsatisfactory finale ending got me all fired up, because I had laid out for the writers the perfect scenario for our beloved foursome, and they messed it up anyway! In retaliation, I have decided to continue the fic as best I am able - with Kurt, Blaine, Rachel, and Finn all happily in New York together. This thing has officially gone AU. **

**Thank you to everyone who has reviewed, favorited, and alerted in the past. If you're still around and willing to give me a shot, I'd love to have you along for the read! I'd also like to give welcome ponies to all new readers! 3 Thanks to everyone who reading and please let me know what you think.**

**What follows is a brief interlude - the preview for Chapter 10, if you will. More to follow. Enjoy!**

"OUCH!"

"Oh, you're so melodramatic."

Finn flinches as Rachel tosses a second item of clothing at him, a white terry cloth headband to follow the bright orange gym shorts already in his lap. "What are these for, again?"

She ignores him. "Heads up, Blaine." There's a flash as another article of clothing flies through the air.

"Oh, so he gets a heads up but I –"

"And why are you buying my boyfriend Spandex blend pants, Rachel?" Kurt sniffs, pulling the black fabric from Blaine's hands with two fingers and a look of distaste.

"They're compression shorts for chafe-free running in the steamy New York streets, of course. These go over top." She throws anotherset of blaze orange gym shorts into Blaine's lap with an accomplished smile. "Plus I knew you'd appreciate the view. I mean, _dat ass,"_ she whispers appreciatively.

"Why do you think it's OK to make comments about my boyfriend's ass?"

"Am I not getting any compression shorts?"

"What are the workout clothes for again, Rachel?" Blaine holds the shorts up with a quizzical expression.

In response, Rachel shakes her head and says, "Well it's swimsuit season, isn't it? Don't we want _everyone_ to be in shape?"

"I think everyone _is_ in shape," Blaine answers loudly, clearly hurt by the accusation. Kurt starts humming quietly and looking pointedly upwards. "What? Are you saying I'm out of shape? Really?" Kurt refuses to look at him and he notices that Rachel's suddenly very interested in the ceiling as well. "I can't believe you guys think I'm out of shape! I could run circles around all of you! Do I need to remind you about Fight Club? Which one of you wants to fight me right now? Huh?" When he is met, not with silence, but with soft, building giggles, Blaine turns ugly. "And I mean, if _I'm_ out of shape, just look at Finn!"

"Hey!"

"Finn is a lot of man, and that's exactly the way I like them," Rachel interjects. Finn grins dopily. Blaine mimes gagging. Kurt blushes. "But that doesn't mean he can't stand to work out just like the rest of us. It's going to be an adventure in health."

Finn's grin falls. Blaine makes unintelligible noises under his breath.

"She's right," Kurt says. "Exercise is good for your complexion, your demeanor, your stamina…"

Blaine's outburst about his stamina being just fine, dammit, draws enough attention that Finn's reddening cheeks go unnoticed.

"We are all going to work out together and that is that." Kurt announces with finality. "And if _you_ think differently," he warns, pointing menacingly at his boyfriend, "just keep in mind that I hold the keys to some of the best parts of your life and I am not above withholding them."

* * *

><p>Finn would <em>never<em> admit it, but he's actually looking forward to working out with his roommates. He misses the sweaty euphoria of football practices now that they're in the city, and he likes the idea of reminding them all who the real athlete is. I mean, sure, he lets Rachel think she's really got him beat, but only because she likes feeling superior, and he finds it pretty cute that she honestly believes she can outrun him.

His happiness over the whole affair disappears when Rachel's phone alarm goes off at like 300 decibels at 4:30 in the morning.

"Baby, what –" he moans out, flapping one arm around in search of the offending device.

"Time to work out!" she whispers sweetly, stealing a quick kiss before rolling over and bouncing out of the bed.

When Finn manages to get his eyes open his girlfriend is fully dressed in black pants that are literally plastered to her legs with little pink shorts over top and a blue halter top. She's also holding what looks suspiciously like a protein shake and grinning at him way too widely for this hour. He can't find any words, so he just blinks at her over and over, thinking maybe she'll put the drink down and slip back into bed with him if he's silent long enough.

Maybe.

"Come on," she commands, pulling the covers back with one sweeping motion.

Finn _only _manages to avoid cussing because it's _Rachel._

There's a loud crash from the kitchen, followed by a screech and an answering roar and another crash.

"Oh, Kurt and Blaine are already up, hurry!"


	12. Chapter 11 Klainnchel Gets Fit, Part 2

**A/N: Well folks? I know it's been forever since I updated, but it turns out that nothing motivates me quite like a breakup and my intense need for fluff. Also, this thing has gone super AU at this point, but thus far I'm just putting my hands over my ears and loudly singing that this story is my canon and all our babies are together in New York and they love each other. *cherie***

**I know it can't undo 4x04 or unsink our ships, but I hope it will help to salve your wounds.**

**Thank you all for your support – favorites, follows, reviews, PMs! They mean everything and keep this story going, no matter its pace, and I love you all. I am genuinely thrilled with each and every review, favorite, and follow. :) **

**So if you're an old friend, thanks for sticking with me - and if you're new, welcome. I hope you like it! **

Kurt has his hand half-wedged in his mouth in a last-ditch effort to keep from laughing. He knows his life is in danger if so much as a giggle should escape him, and if he's going to die, he wants to be found in a solemnly dramatic posture in a timeless fashion ensemble. There might even be a piano and a still-smoking gun involved. He does not want to be remembered as that guy whose boyfriend strangled him to death with a terry-cloth headband.

Blaine is alternating pacing across the bedroom floor with stopping in front of the mirror, pulling vainly at his unflatteringly tight Underarmor shirt, and pouting. "Rachel must have… got the wrong size."

"I'm sure you're right," Kurt chokes.

"She did!"

"I know!"

Blaine turns abruptly, his pout nothing short of pathetic. The black material outlines the very slight rounding of his belly – something almost unnoticeable even in the form-fitting shirt – and Kurt is suddenly stricken by how adorable it is and he can't help smiling.

Blaine goes super defensive in half a second, wrapping his arms around himself. "I didn't think you of all people would care."

"Oh no, no, Blaine!" Kurt hops off of the bed and bounds toward his boyfriend. Blaine is staring at the floor, stubbornly avoiding his gaze. "You know that I love every inch of you," he says with the slightest of eyebrow waggles. And when that fails to make Blaine smile, he presses a hand to the shorter boy's cheek and gently turns his head to face him. "Hey. I was actually thinking how adorable you look."

"No you weren't, you're just trying to make me feel better about my fat self."

"No, I'm not."

Blaine huffs. "Yes you are."

Kurt breathes for a second, hesitating, and then presses a hand over the tiny bit of pudge and kisses him full on the lips, one long, unbroken, unmoving kiss. When he pulls back, Blaine is biting his lip and blinking rapidly, his long eyelashes fluttering like moth's wings.

"I just – really love you," Blaine says at last, half melting into Kurt's arms.

"I love you too. Now could you quit mooning ridiculously over your appearance so we can get going?"

After a brief Blainchel kitchen showdown (he doesn't eat breakfast, she insists he needs a little protein to keep him up right during the run, threats involving projectile vomit are made, the issue is dropped) the two couples take to the streets. Rachel wants to run to Central Park and back but is summarily outvoted and they end up on the subway. One of their fellow passengers looks them up and down and asks if there's a Jazzercise class he didn't know about.

When they get to Central Park, Kurt takes them through a long and complicated stretching routine that threatens to split Finn's shorts, makes Blaine pull something he complains loudly about, and nearly incites a fistfight when Finn notices a man in a shady-ass trenchcoat studying Rachel's downward dog a little too long. After Finn has been sufficiently calmed down and Blaine's thigh has been slathered with emergency Icy Hot, they take off at what Rachel claims is a light jog through the park.

Finn matches pace easily with her – his legs, after all, must be about three times longer than hers – and revels in the way it feels to have air rushing through his lungs again. New York is bright and busy and beautiful, but it's also cramped. It's been months since Finn's been able to stretch his considerable length of leg in any sort of running – he refuses to hit NYU's gym with Rachel, mostly because the last time he got on a treadmill in a public place, he left with a myriad of bruises, considerably less skin on his face, and a YouTube video waiting to happen. He glances over at his petite girlfriend – escaped strands of hair flying, ponytail (and other things) bouncing – and lets out an endorphin-fueled laugh. "I'll race ya," he challenges.

"Oh, you are so on, buddy."

Behind, Blaine is using what little breath he has to systematically curse Rachel, Kurt, the Underarmor manufacturers, the architects of Central Park, the inventors of running, and air. Kurt backs off to little more than a trot and fixes him with a concerned look. "As much of a joy as this is, are you OK?"

"I think… I might… be having… an asthma attack," he volunteers, eyes wild.

Kurt stops altogether. "You don't have asthma."

"Maybe I'm… developing it."

"No."

"Also, I think I tore…. My ACL."

"You didn't tear your ACL, your hamstrings were just a little tight."

"Pretty sure it's my ACL."

"It's not – Blaine, you are OK."

"Listen, I know… I'm not… a very good fuc-"

"Excuse him," Kurt begs a scandalized looking woman with a running stroller.

"- ing runner, Kurt!" Blaine makes a gesture that under normal circumstances probably would have been very dramatic and pointed, but in his oxygen-deprived state is more like flapping an imaginary wing. "You just… go ahead… and run with them! I'll just take… the subway back… all by myself… if I can get there… what with my asthma… and my ACL…and hope I don't get… taken by some… creeper with a Richard Simmons fetish…"

"OK, stop, stop. You are fine. You are not having an asthma attack, you are a fine runner, and you know, I'm not really feeling the burn today anyway. Let's go get cheesecake."

"It's six-thirty in the morning," Blaine points out.

Kurt nods. "Cheesecake crepes, then."

"Are you sure? I don't want to - "

"Of course I'm sure. _Cheesecake._ Let me just run up and tell Finn and Rachel – "

Unfortunately, Kurt takes off at a sprint at about the same time as Finn and Rachel decide to race one another.

What Finn started as a romantic little game had quickly escalated to a full-on, balls-to-the-wall race because Rachel's competitive streak and Finn's never-ending desire to be great at _something _easily tangle into a Cold War style knot. They go rapidly from jogging, to running, to flat-out sprinting. Then a woman wearing headphones, walking a terrier, and paying no attention nearly has to scrape canine parts from the pavement when Finn just avoids running over her dog, slowing infinitesimally to spare its life. Rachel sees a possible advantage and shoots right, leaving Finn's path blocked by a veritable army of geese. Finn hesitates for a moment and then long-jumps into the middle of the birds, causing them to diffuse wildly with a significant amount of honking, and redoubles his pace to catch Rachel, who he immediately tries and fails to hipcheck off the path. He cowers slightly as her eyes light with flame and she gives him a vicious shove, throwing him so totally off balance and at such speed that he turns an ankle and faceplants like a felled tree.

Kurt watches the whole thing go down from an increasing distance with an increasing amount of incredulity, smacking a hand over his mouth when Finn falls. Rachel is so hell-bent on defeating him that she keeps running for a few seconds, punching the air when she realizes she's lost him, then turns back to taunt him and finally sees her timbered boyfriend.

By the time Kurt gets to the scene, Rachel's already kneeling by Finn's side, producing first aid wipes from some hidden pocket and brushing them gently over the scrapes on his chin, hands, and knees. "Oh, Finn, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to – "

"Of course you didn't, I'm – ouch – fine, Rachel, really – "

"You two are seriously like fourteen-year-old boys," Kurt interjects.

Rachel gives him a seriously frightening look, but drops it, focusing on tending to her man. "Where's Blaine?"

"Well, before you decided to go all human Nascar on me, I was coming to tell you that we quit for the day. We want crepes."

"I want crepes," Finn says weakly.

"We'll get you crepes, baby, don't worry." Rachel smoothes his hair back and twists the first aid wipe in her fist. "I think we're all done for the day. Can you stand?"

Finn has twisted the ankle – not badly enough to be devastating, just enough to force Rachel and Kurt to be used as human crutches as they hobble back through the park, earning a "serves you right!" from the terrier owner as they pass.

It takes a few minutes to locate Blaine. "I left him right here!" Kurt objects, sliding out from under Finn's arm and causing Rachel to let out a loud "mmmph" as Finn's weight redistributes to her side. "I don't – "

And then he spots him, sitting on a park bench.

He's not alone.

"Kurt, this is _Keith_," Blaine says, pointing to the ginger-mulleted man beside him. "_Keith's_ really into exercise, too, and was just recommending that I should try this "exercise" DVD he has. He has one back at his "apartment" and was telling me I can come by any time. Isn't that nice?"

Keith grins widely, revealing a serious lack of enamel. "You're welcome any time, too, sweetcheeks. You just come with him. We'll be bending and stretching - "

"That is… unbelievably kind," Kurt chokes. "Blaine, we'd better go. Finn –"

"That one's not invited." Keith points just to make sure there's no confusion.

"Come on," Kurt hisses. Blaine appears to consider for a minute, obviously trying to punish Kurt for leaving him in Central Park wearing an outfit that could have landed him as an extra in the "Physical" music video, and then finally gets up, waving Keith off.

Kurt wheedles Blaine into taking his spot on Finn's side. "You're buying my crepes or I'm feeding you to Keith," Blaine warns.

"I'll buy your crepes and if you ever pull a stunt like that again I'm cutting you off." Blaine gasps and Kurt turns to his best friend and brother and affects a bright smile. "Let's get some breakfast cheesecake."

It takes twenty minutes for them to limp to a breakfast establishment, where it is mutually agreed that mascarpone cheese will always win out over a marathon.

No group exercise sessions are ever attempted again and Sunday morning crepes become the new apartment tradition without argument.


End file.
